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As she started away from Ruth’s she could see the great . . disk of the sun.” Page 190. 




IN THE WAY 


CHAPTER I 



‘HE kitchen looked unusually dreary that 


i night. It was raining and the two young 
men who called it home had thrown down their 
wet coats on chairs to dry before the fire when 
they came in. Their heavy boots also had been 
drawn off and looked out of sorts and out of 
place in a dark pool by the door. The stove 
needed blacking and the fire was sulky. In the 
sink were piled the dishes of the entire day, still 
jun washed. They were not many to be sure, but 
they added to the general air of desolation. 
Two blackened pipes on the mantel-piece lay in 
the one cleared space, the rest of the shelf being 
occupied by a miscellaneous collection of years, 
pn a hook behind the cupboard door there hung 
1 faded checked gingham apron. The owner 
:hereof had been dead nearly a year, but the 
apron had never been taken down, either because 
^t had never been noticed, or because the boys 
lad not known what to do with it. It could 


5 


6 


IN THE WAY 


/. 


scarcely have been a pleasing object to thenij 
but they had not been accustomed to much that 
was pleasant in their lives so far, and hardly 
thought to try and make it for themselves. 

The table was set for the evening meal with- 
out table-cloth or much regard to the fitness of 
things. A baker’s loaf of sour, puffy-looking 
bread lay. on the bare table. A paper containing 
a slab of cheese was on the other side. A knuckle 
of ham on a plate and the molasses pitcher com- 
pleted the array, with some miserably made tea 
in a tin teapot. It was a very uninviting-look- 
ing table, and yet these two preferred it to hav- 
ing their premises invaded by hired help, or to 
going out to board. They shrank from any 
more changes. They ate in silence, for they 
had worked hard all day and were hungry. 

At last the elder of the two shoved his chair 
back from the table and sat thoughtfully gazing 
across the room. 

“ Joe, she wants to come here ! ” he said, still 
looking thoughtfully about the dismal room. 

“ Who’re you talking about?” said the younger 
a little crossly, helping himself to another slice 
of ham. He had been working all the after- 
noon in the rain, mending the cowhouse roof, 
and the supper tasted good to him. “I wish 
you’d ever begin at the right end of a thing, 
Dave,” he went on; “you always plunge into 


IN THE WAY 


7 


the middle, and it takes half an hour to get at 
your idea. Where have you been this afternoon^ 
and who are you talking about ? ” 

“Ruth,” said David. 

“ Ruth ? ” said Joseph, showing by his tone that 
he was scarcely enlightened. 

“Ruth,” said David again. 

“ Oh, Ruth ! ” said Joseph, a kind of dismay 
and consternation in his voice. He laid down 
his bread and molasses and sat back in his chair. 
“What in the name of common sense does she 
want to come here for?” he asked after a minute. 

“Because Aunt Ruth is dead,” answered Da- 
vid, like a lesson he had been saying over to 
himself to be sure he had it right; “and because 
she is alone and is our sister and we are her 
brothers.” 

“Well, where’s all the money that was going 
to be left her? Is it dead too? ” 

“I don’t know about the money; she doesn’t 
I say as to that.” 

! “It must be gone or she wouldn’t want to 
j come here. Why doesn’t she do something and 
stay where she is ? After being away from home 
all her life, she can’t expect to be taken care of 
now.” 

“Joe,” said David rather sharply, bringing the 
front legs of his chair down with a thud, “she’s 
our sister. What would father say to hear you 


IN THE WAY 


8 IN THE WAY / 

speak like that? She doesn’t say anything about 
money, but I don’t believe she was thinking of' 
that. She seems to want to come to see us. 
Maybe it’s only a visit she wants, but anyway 
she is coming. She isn’t even going to wait to 
see whether we want her. She is going to start 
to-night and will be here to-morrow morning.” 

Joe answered this announcement with a long 
whistle of astonished disapprobation. 

He reached for the letter David handed him, 
and drew the smoky kerosene lamp nearer him 
to read it. His face grew dark as he read it 
slowly. It was a letter fair and dainty enough 
for any brother to be glad to read. Written on 
heavy, creamy linen paper, in even, graceful 
lines and curves, a sort of initial of the lovely 
writer herself. 

But Joseph threw it down angrily when he 
had finished, and flung back his chair roughly 
from the table. 

“ I guess I’ll clear out of this ranch for a 
while, and let you enjoy your company to your- 
self,” he said, rising as if to carry out his threat. I 

His brother rose also, and laying a rough hand . 
kindly on his arm said : “No, you won’t do } 
any such thing, Joe ; you’ll stay here and behave 
yourself, as you promised father you would do, ( 
or at any rate. as I promised father I would see i 
you did. She is our sister, and you have got to ! 


IN THE WAY 


9 


do your duty toward her, whether you like it or 
not.” Then David took one of the two dirty 
pipes from the mantel, and lighting it sat down 
by the stove, with his stockinged feet on the 
hearth. Joseph followed his example, and for a 
few minutes there was silence, save for the sound 
of wind and rain outside. 

“ Pretty place this is for a girl,” said Joseph, 
taking the pipe out of his mouth to speak ; 
“she’ll come around messing up everything, 
and the way she’s been brought up she won’t 
know how to do a thing.” 

David looked about the room again in a trou- 
bled way. It was the same room he remem- 
bered in his boyhood, aye, even his babyhood, 
away back where that shadowy memory of his 
mother moved about ; but the old kitchen had a 
brighter look in those days. What made the 
jdifference? Then when mother had gone and 
jAunt Nancy had come, the room had seemed 
|well enough ; father had lived there and seemed 
contented. After father had died, Aunt Nancy 
had kept the room about the same, until her death, 
inine months ago, and nothing had been changed 
since. 

His eyes wandered to the gingham apron 
Dehind the door. He slowly brought his feet 
iown from the hearth, and going ov£r to the 
cujDboard took the apron down from its hook, 


lO 


IN THE WAY 


and carefully rolling it up put it in the stove. 
Then he sat down and went on smoking. The 
aetion stirred up something in the younger 
brother’s memory which made him uncomforta- 
ble, and in spite of the rain he announced his 
intention of going down to the store awhile. 
David said nothing, and Joseph went about some 
noisy preparations, drawing on his boots with a 
heavy thud. Then he threw open the door, and 
was greeted by such a gust of wind and torrent 
of rain that, after scowling out into the darkness 
for a minute, he slammed the door and came in, 
pulling off his boots and sitting sulkily down 
again by the fire. 

David roused himself to wash the dishes. So 
much he could do toward clearing up. “ I sup- 
pose I shall have to get some one to fix up here,” 
he said, looking hopelessly around. 

“ What for ? ” said the irritable Joe. “ If she 
don’t like it, let her go home. We don’t want 
her, anyway. There’s other rooms in the house; 
besides this ; she can stay in them and. keep out 
of here. As for eating, let her get her meala 
over to Barnes’. We can’t cook for her, and 
’tain’t likely she knows how herself.” j 

' Look here, Joe/’ said the elder brother turn-1 
ing slowly around, the cold greasy dishwateii: 
dripping from his great red hands; ‘‘you arej 
hard on her. She never knew she wasn’t Auntj 


IN THE WAY 


II 


Ruth’s own child until after Aunt Ruth died, 
three weeks ago. It was part of the agreement, 
you know. Father thought it best for her to 
have a mother. Aunt Ruth said she wanted her 
to grow up loving her as her own mother. I 
never could quite see how it was right and fair 
not to tell her, but Aunt Ruth made a good 
deal of it, and father thought it would be just 
as well, for she would have everything money 
could buy — you know Uncle Hiram was pretty 
rich awhile before he died, until he lost a good 
deal in a failure of some kind. She was a pretty 
little thing when I saw her.” 

Here the dishwasher folded his arms and 
leaned back against the sink. “You know 
father sent me there with a message the year be- 
fore he died, and he told me not to tell any one 
who I was, but Aunt Ruth. I wasn’t to let Ruth 
Iniow I belonged to her, if I should happen to 
see her, because he said she had never even 
leard of me. I didn’t kind of like the idea, 
;hen, for it seemed as though she would feel 
ashamed of me if she knew I belonged to her, 
ind I went there feeling all out of patience with 
1 girl that was letting herself be fooled in that 
way ; but you know she was a baby only a few 
|lays old when she went there, and how was it 
jiier fault ? 

I “ Besides, I don’t believe they brought her up 


12 


IN THE WAY 


near so stuck up as I thought, for while I waited 
in the great big hallway she came flying down 
the stairs just like a robin, and asked me to 
please sit down till her mother could come. 
Then I heard some one call her Ruth, and so 
I knew who she was, and she answered, yes, 
she was coming, and went away. But before 
she went she smiled at me, and said it was a 
cold morning outside. It seemed sort of funny 
to think she was my own sister, and if mother 
hadn’t died, or things hadn’t turned out as they 
did, she would have been here instead of there, 
and like as not she’d have been washing these 
very dishes now, instead of my doing it.” 

“Well, you needn’t count on getting her to do 
them to-morrow night, Dave, I can tell you. 
City girls never do those things. They’re afraid 
of their hands. She’ll be a precious nuisance ; 
that’s what I think. How old is she now?” 

“’Bout a year and a half younger than you.” 

“H’m, they’re always silly at that age. I 
wouldn’t let her come if I was you, Dave.” 

“She’s on her way by this time, so I can’t 
help it,” said the elder brother imperturbably. 
He stood still, the dishcloth in his hand, think 
ing of the bright little figure in blue and white , 
with flying golden hair, that had tripped down 
the stairs and given him the chair so graciously ; 
and then he looked hopelessly about that rooUt 


I 


IN THE WAY 13 

and wished he knew how to make it pleasant 
for her coming. 

The brothers did not sleep well that night. 
David had an uncomfortable sense of responsi- 
bility upon him which he was in nowise able to 
discharge, much as if an elephant had suddenly 
found himself inheritor of the proverbial china 
shop. What he, a quiet, awkward farm boy, 
was to do with a full-fledged young lady sister, 
fresh from the city, was more than he could 
fathom. 

He arose early the next morning, as was his 
custom, and went about his usual duties, or 
“chores,” as he called them, with the problem 
still unsolved. Joe, meantime, was angry and 
dismayed. Though it was by no means a pleas ^ 
ant day for such work, he announced his inten- 
tion of “ gettin’ the timber off that upper wood 
lot,” which was at some distance from the farm 
proper, and would require all day. Therefore, 
he took a cold bite in his pocket, shouldered his 
^ixe, and was off before David had realized that 
he would be left alone to receive their guest, 

f ' vhen he had entertained some thought of send- 
ng his younger brother to the train to meet her. 
Her letter had been a brief one and to the 
point, with an undertone of eager sisterly love 
jiind longing for some one who belonged to her, 
in her loneliness ; and this on the second reading 


14 


IN THE WAY 


reached her elder brother’s heart and made him 
wish that their father was alive to give her what 
she wanted. He felt himself utterly unable to 
do so. 

Out of deference to the expected guest he 
forebore, as his brother had done, to eat his 
breakfast from dishes, this morning, but took a 
cold hurried lunch from the pantry shelf. He 
tried to think as he ate, what his father 
would have done, but it seemed impossible ; and 
again, as he had done many times before, he 
decided that it was a bad business to give up 
one’s children to some one else to bring up, even 
though that one was the rich wife of your own 
brother and the mother of the child was dead. 
Doubtless Ruth had had a much pleasanter life 
in her luxurious city home than she would have 
had in the old farmhouse with only her rough 
father and brothers and old Aunt Nancy for 
company ; but now that those who had guarded 
her life were taken away, what was to become 
of her? He gave it up and went out to his 
work again. There was a certain amount of 
work about the farm that must be done every 
day no matter what happened, and he was glad 
that it was so. 

When this had been done he harnessed the 
old horse to the light spring wagon ; smoothed 
his hair; put on a coat — an unusual addition,, 


IN THE WAY 


15 


except in cold weather, for merely a ride to 
the village — and drove slowly toward the town 
and the railway station. It did not occur to 
him to put on a collar. That was an amount 
of dressing not indulged in, except on Sundays 
or extraordinary occasions, by the people with 
whom he had been accustomed to associate. 
Half-way to the village, and almost overcome 
with his sense of the nearness of the station 
and his expected guest, he halted the old horse 
suddenly, thinking of his collarless condition, 
and half turned the wagon around again toward 
home to make it good ; but the color mounted 
to his cheek as he remembered the crowd that 
would be at the station — always, to meet every 
train — and he turned the astonished horse’s nose 
back again with a jerk, going on more rapidly 
toward the station. 

It was bad enough to have the gaze of those 
curious eyes, and the ridicule of the lazy tongues 
leveled upon him while he met his city sister, 
without having a collar on. A collar was always 
fan embarrassment to him, and for that reason 
' alone he had several times meditated giving up 
J going to church on Sabbath mornings since his 
i father’s death ; but the power of habit and his 
i father’s steady example still held him to that 
( when there was no reasonable excuse. 

There was no need to fasten Old Gray lest she 

i 

( 

L 

i 


i\ 


i6 


IN THE WAY 


should be afraid of the cars. She was not afraid 
of anything in this world now, and so David 
drew up in front of the long, low station, that 
had done duty for many a year, and swinging 
one leg over the wheel to the platform, which 
was about on a level with the floor of the wagon, 
he sat surveying the crowd of loafers assembled 
for their daily excitement of watching the New 
York train come in. 

He had sat in just that way many a time wait- 
ing, with no particular end in view except that he 
happened to be there at that time, and it was in- 
teresting to see who would come and who would 
go. Now it was different, and the commotion in 
his breast made him wish himself at home. In 
a few minutes all the eyes would be leveled at 
him, and the wonder and surprise would be 
about him and his sister. How strange that 
word “ sister ” sounded to him, anyway ! He had 
never really thought of her as belonging to him, 
and he was conscious of almost wishing at that 
moment that she did not. Then the distant 
whistle sounded, and he lounged out of the 
wagon and stood waiting with the others. 

There were not many passengers to alight at 
the small village. One or two drummers, a mer- 
chant returned from a trip to New York, and an 
old grandmother come to visit a swarm of grand- 
children, who were all down to meet her. 


I 


I 


IN THE WAY 


17 


i 

i 

After these, preceded by an obsequious porter 
from the parlor car carrying her immaculate lug- 
gage, came a dainty young woman. She h^d 
golden hair, which escaped from the imprisoning 
shell combs into little sunshiny rings about her 
temples, and her eyes were large and blue, keen 
and bright, yet tender. David’s eyes were blue 
too. She was dressed all in brown, very plainly 
indeed, and yet it seemed extraordinary to Sum- 
merton, for they seldom saw a dress or a coat so 
perfectly made. The oldest grandchild, who 
was herself approaching young womanhood, 
wondered what in the world there was about 
her simple hat that looked “ so awfully stylish,” 
and began studying it, if perchance her last 
year’s might be made to serve in somewhat 
similar fashion. 

Ruth Benedict walked the entire length of 
the platform to the dingy station, and had her 
baggage deposited on the grimy, much-cut 
benches, paid the porter a shining quarter, and 
then looked about for her brother. She had not 
discovered him in her walk down the platform. 

He meantime had been sure that this was 
his sister, but he could not bring himself to 
speak while that important black porter was in 
attendance, and the blood mounted in rich waves 
to his face as she passed him. He turned his 
eyes the other way lest she should divine who 

B 


( 


i8 


IN THE WAY 


he was and speak. She meanwhile, knew not 
what manner of person to look for. She knew 
he was a farmer, but at least she expected a col- 
lar, and so she passed him by at the first glance ; 
but something in his face, as he turned during 
the bustle of the moving train to slip around to 
where she stood, attracted her attention, and she 
looked again, a smile lighting up her sweet face, ' 
the same smile he remembered of her child- 
hood. That smile enabled him to get over the 
embarrassing ground between them and reach 
her side without the painful interval he had 
expected. 

“Are you David? ’’she asked eagerly before 
he reached her, and then without waiting to 
give him time for more than a nod in reply, she 
put up her pretty lips and threw one arm simply 
and gracefully about his neck and kissed him. 

David felt as though he never had been through 
such a trying experience in his life, and would 
rather be killed outright than go through if: 
again. He was painfully conscious of the watch- 
ing eyes. He dared not turn toward them to 
see what they thought. He had a faint hope 
that the outgoing train had attracted the atten- 
tion of most of them, but it was only a hope 
Ellen Amelia Haskins, the eldest granddaughter , 
was taking notes with undivided attention, and 
she immediately began to give abroad news. ; 




IN THE WAY 


19 


All Summerton knew that away back in the 
years somewhere there had been a baby sister in 
the Benedict household, who had been adopted 
by the father’s rich brother, but they had almost 
forgotten the story. Now, even as David hur- 
ried his sister to the waiting wagon behind the 
station, it was revived, as Ellen Amelia’s ex- 
cited voice proclaimed in tones which might 
have been heard by the occupants of the wagon, 
had it not been for their absorption in them- 
selves, that she “ just betted Dave Ben’dic’s sis- 
ter had come to make a visit, ’cause she kissed 
him,” and she added, “ and he looked real kind 
of handsome and majestic bendin’ down to en- 
circle her slight form,” and she giggled softly 
to herself and remembered the last week’s stoiy 
in the “ Fireside Companion.” 

David Benedict did not stay to hear what 
might be said. He whipped up old Gray as 
that animal could not remember to have been 
whipped since the last hired man got married 
and went away, and the wagon was soon hidden 
down the road behind the great elm trees at the 
corner. 


CHAPTER II 


R uth felt not a little dismayed to find her 
brother present so unpolished an appear- 
ance, but she tried to remember that it was early 
morning and she knew nothing of farm life. 
Doubtless he had left his morning work to meet 
her. Her artist’s eye decided that he was hand- 
some in spite of no collar. The Snmmerton 
girls had not known enough to discover this as 
yet. They looked more upon the outward 
adornment than upon the true man, and could 
not recognize him except accompanied by well- 
oiled hair, flashy necktie, and perfumery on his 
handkerchief, which was to their nostrils a per- 
fect cover for a barnyard odor on the boots or 
onions on the breath. Besides, David was shy 
and awkward and never gave them any atten- 
tion. Joseph, the younger brother, was mucli 
more to their liking. 

Ruth, sitting beside her silent brother trying 
to get acquainted and feel her way into his 
heart, felt her own sink in a lonely, homesick 
way, and began to long again for the dear ones 
who were gone, whose constant care had made 
her life so bright. But she turned her attention 


IN THE WAY 


21 


to the country about, frankly admiring the river 
views and the waving fields of grain. It was 
indeed a lovely drive to the Benedict farmhouse, 
and Ruth began to dread its ending. 

She had been curious to know what her old 
home was like, but something began to warn her 
that she would be disappointed. She had read 
of and seen some beautiful old farmhouses, 
painted white with green blinds and with lofty 
columns supporting the front roof. She had im- 
agined that her home would be something like 
this, with a velvety lawn in front and a dainty 
white hen here and there walking carefully over 
it, while at the back there would be a row of 
shining milk cans, and some peaceful cows mus- 
ing not far off. That was her idea of farm- 
houses in general. Now she began to feel that 
there might be some mistake about their all 
being like that. Since they had left the station 
they had passed no such homes. 

They presently came in sight of some spacious 
barns, well coated with red, and a little farther 
over a large old-fashioned rambling house, of 
color so dingy that no one might tell what it 
had been in former days. The front part of the 
house seemed to be closed, at least the weather- 
beaten blinds were shut. There was no smoke 
coming from any chimney except the back one. 

.{The front porch had a fallen-down appearance, 


22 


IN THE WAY 


which gave an expression to the house of a per- 
son with the corners of his mouth drooped sadly. 
This porch was an old-fashioned “stoop,” with 
a narrow seat on either side too, instead of a 
wide, airy piazza stretched across the front of 
the house. The front dooryard was overgrown 
with tall grass and a few straggling pinks and 
bachelor’s buttons here and there, while the 
rose and lilac bushes had tangled their branches 
across the path to the steps, according to their 
own sweet will. 

Ruth wondered idly how the people could 
ever reach the front door, and felt sad at the air 
of abandonment and desolation. Then she saw 
Old Gray turn in at the great unpainted gate 
of many bars, and knew that she was at home. 
Somehow the tears were very near her eyes, but 
she bravely pressed them back and tried to be 
cheery and find something to admire. Strangely 
enough the old flat stone in front of the worn, 
much-chipped old green kitchen door with the 
quaint brass knob, was the first thing that 
caught her eye. 

“ What a beautiful flat stone that would have: 
been to play on when I was a little girl,” she 
said impulsively, feeling that she must say some- 
thing or break down ; and then she realized what 
a silly remark that was to make. But some One 
wiser than herself was guiding her words tha ! 



IN THE WAY 


23 


day. She could not have said anything that 
would so have warmed David’s heart to his sis- 
ter as that. He had a feeling that she must of 
course consider her life and her bringing-up as 
above that of her brothers, and when she actu- 
ally spoke as if she would have liked to share 
their childhood joys in the old plain home, he 
felt as if he loved her at once. The old flat 
stone was dear to him for memory’s sake. He 
could even remember so far back as when he 
used to sit on it, in his little gingham apron, 
and his mother would come to the door and give 
him a large piece of warm gingerbread, stand- 
ing there a minute to watch his enjoyment as he 
ate, and saying in soft tones, “ Mother’s dear lit- 
tle boy.” 

His heart was so soft over Ruth’s words 
that when he awkwardly helped her out of the 
wagon he had an impulse to kiss her. He 
restrained it, of course. All his life training 
since his mother died had been to restrain any 
such sentimental impulses as that, but the im- 
pulse had made his heart warm, nevertheless. It 
is a pity he did not give way to that impulse, 
il'or Ruth, suddenly ushered into that dreary 
Idtchen, and left alone with the injunction to 
Si it down and rest herself until her brother put 
(out the horse, felt such a rush of desolation 
( ‘ome upon her as almost overpowered her, 



24 IN THE WAY 

She sat down in Aunt Nancy’s old rocking 
chair and buried her face in her hands. What 
did it all mean? Was there nobody left who 
cared for her ? Did her brother not know what 
to do with her? Was she an unwelcome guest? 
That had not occurred to her before. Now it 
brought a sickening loneliness. She had been 
rash, after all, as her old lawyer friend had told 
her, in rushing off to brothers she did not know 
without any warning to them or any chance to 
hear from them. Yet she had thought when 
she prayed to be guided that her direction had 
been to come here. Could it be that she was 
mistaken ? Perhaps her own desire for the love 
of some one who belonged to her had made her 
mistake her desires for God’s guidance ! Then 
came another thought. Perhaps he had wanted 
her to come here after all, and though there 
might not be comfort for her, still he might in- 
tend that there was something she could do for 
her brothers. Perhaps they did not know Jesus 
Christ. 

Her heart went out in great longing for them.. 
She wanted to be sure that they were Chris- 
tians. If they were Christians, then surely there 
would be a tie between them even stronger than 
blood. If they were not, then she must stay 
and try to lead them to Christ. She slipped 
down on her knees beside the old calico-cushioned 


IN THE WAY 


25 


rocker and asked her Saviour for help and guid- 
ance, promising to try to do whatever he wanted 
her to do here in this home, no matter how hard 
it might seem, if he would only stay with her 
and help her. Then she got up, resolutely 
wiped away the tears, and looked about her. 
She forced herself to take in every detail of that 
room. It did not take long, for the kitchen had 
not much in it. She even walked over and 
looked at the chromos of bright red and pink 
roses framed in pine cones, hanging on each side 
of the little high clock shelf, and took in the 
fact of the smoky kerosene lamp, realizing that 
there would be no gas in this house. 

Then with a glance out of the window, to 
make sure David was not at the door, she went 
over to the pantry with swift determination. 
David had told her during the drive that Aunt 
Nancy was dead, and that they were living 
alone, and she began to wonder how they lived. 
Did they board, or what? She stood in the 
door in wonder. The great piece of ham, the 
half-loaf of bread, the broken cheese, and bag 
of crackers, told a pitiful tale to her. She ap- 
plied the tip of her nose to the baker’s bread, 
and then straightened up suddenly with an in- 
voluntary “ Ugh ! ” 

Something of her amazement, disgust, and 
pity, mingled, must have been in her face as she 


26 


IN THE WAY 


turned at a slight sound behind her and saw her 
elder brother standing hopelessly in the door. 
He would not willingly have had her see that 
pantry. He had fixed it all, out in the barn, 
while he unharnessed Old Gray. He would go 
right over to the Barneses and take board for his 
sister, and then he and Joe could go over and 
call upon her often and keep her from being 
lonely. The old house was no place for her, 
and of course she could not eat there. It was 
all well enough for him and Joe to get along 
on anything, but such a dainty bit of flesh and 
blood as their sister must have better fare. 
Accordingly he had stopped in the process of 
unharnessing and come into the house to tell 
Ruth his plan for her and ask if she would like 
to ride over there with him at once, and have 
him take her trunk over with them. 

Shame filled his face at sight of her discov- 
ery of his awkward attempts at housekeeping. 
He would have resented her going to look in 
that pantry if she had not been his sister, and 
even as it was a kind of anger began to rise in 
his heart, and he would soon have been ready to 
say with pride, “ It’s none of her business how 
we live. She has no right to poke and pry into 
things.” But Ruth turned with tears in her e)'es 
and threw her arms about her brother. 

“ Oh, you poor, dear David ! ” she exclaimed. 


IN THE WAY 


27 


“ How you have needed me ! And you have 
been trying to keep house for yourselves. I see 
it all now. I am so glad I have come. I was 
afraid at first that you did not want me ; but you 
do need me, don’t you ? Tell me you do, for I 
am so hungry to be loved and needed. And I’m 
glad I came to make you comfortable. You are 
glad too, aren’t you ? ” and then she hid her face 
in his coat and cried. 

He stood helpless before her tears. He was 
really frightened. He had never seen a woman 
cry before, and began to wonder if he ought to 
go for a doctor ; but just when he felt the most 
helpless, she lifted a face all smiling through 
her tears and kissed him. 

Somehow David felt as though she were more 
really his sister after that, as if in some subtle 
way a sympathy had been established between 
them. He was willing to let her do anything 
she wanted to now, and he felt as if he would 
stand up for her against all the world. He 
made her sit down while he explained his plan 
for her boarding, but she only laughed a silvery 
laugh. 

“Now, David, my dear brother, did you sup- 
pose I came here to be a summer boarder with 
the Barneses, and have you come and call on 
me occasionally? No, indeed! The Barneses 
are well enough in their places, and I shall be 


28 


IN THE WAY 


glad enough to call on them some time in the 
future if they don’t see fit to call on me first ; 
but just now I have not time. There’s a great 
deal to be done in this house before dinner. I 
came here to find my brothers, and I find they 
need me a great deal more than I supposed they 
did. What time do you usually have dinner? 
and where is my other brother?” 

“ But what do you mean to do ? ” he asked 
helplessly. “ You can’t eat here,” and he looked 
about on the kitchen which seemed, with her 
bright presence in it, to have a great many more 
defects for a kitchen than he had ever seen 
before. 

“ Why can’t I eat here, I should like to 
know ? ” asked the sister brightly ; “I guess I 
can if you can. But I must go to work, or 
there won’t be anything fit for either of us to 
eat. That bread in there is very sour. I won- 
der you haven’t got the dyspepsia. Do you 
mean to say that you and Joseph have been liv- 
ing in this way on such food as that ever since 
Aunt Nancy died ? You poor dear ! Now, let’s 
get to work. We must have everything nice 
and cheery before Joseph comes. That fire looks 
as if it was almost discouraged. Can you make 
up a good fire for me ? I’ll have to learn how to 
operate that stove ; our range was different. But 
if you’ll fix the fire real rousing and bright, and 


I 


IN THE WAY 29 

bring my trunk in and unstrap it, I’ll fix things 
up all right. Where is my room to be ? ” 

David did not know how to answer all her 
questions. He felt that some one had come at 
last who knew what she wanted and his part 
was only to obey, so in bewilderment he brought 
her trunk in and deposited it in the room she 
selected. She had resolutely refrained from 
looking about her much as she went through a 
portion of the rest of the house. The kitchen 
was enough to deal with at first, and too much 
dreariness would take away her self-control. A 
room with four walls and a bed was an absolute 
necessity, and beyond that she would not see 
anything until she had done all she could in 
the kitchen. She kept her eyes strictly upon 
their work, while she rapidly took off her trav- 
eling dress and donned a neat gingham, envel- 
oping herself in a large kitchen apron. It was 
the apron she and her dear adopted mother had 
made for her to use in cooking school a year be- 
fore, and the tears came to her eyes as she fas- 
tened it, with the memory of all the sweet words 
and looks sewed into the garment with the 
dainty stitches. 

“Darling, this apron will be with you in 
many a time of need and stand you in good 
stead,” her mother had said. “ You may find 
times when you will prize it more than any 


30 


IN THK WAY 


pretty dress you have. I hope this apron will 
wear to help you do great good and achieve 
great things in the culinary line.” These had 
been that dear mother’s laughing words as she 
handed her the finished garment. Ruth brushed 
the tears away and rushed down to the kitchen. 
There she found a bright fire roaring away in the 
stove, and David standing by it looking about in 
a dazed way as if he wondered what was coming 
next. 

“ Now the next thing is to find out what there 
is to work with,” said the new housekeeper 
eagerly. “ David, have you any yeast ? I want 
to set some bread the first thing.” 

‘‘Yeast?” said David; “no, we haven’t had 
any yeast in the house since Aunt Nancy died.” 

“ And David, where do you keep the baking 
powder and the salt ? ” called Ruth from the 
pantry. 

“ You will certainly have to go to the grocery 
before we can have dinner,” she said, emerging 
from her investigations. “ If you will go to 
market I will write down a list of things we 
need right away. I’ll try to have some kind of 
a lunch for you when you come back. I cannot 
make bread without yeast and I cannot make 
biscuit without baking powder.” 

David brought the potatoes from the cellar 
and saddling the horse made ready to go on his 


IN THE WAY 


31 


errand, not much relishing the thought of the 
sensation he would make, returning to market 
with a basket so soon after the arrival of his 
sister. However, he hastened away, and Ruth 
locked the door securely and went to work. It 
must be confessed that while she was a brave 
girl in the city, here in the country she felt the 
least bit timid at being left alone in this strange 
house for an hour. Who could tell what awful 
tramp might come? However, she made up her 
mind to be so busy she would not think of it, 
and sending up a prayer for help, she went in 
search of a knife to peel the potatoes. It was 
fortunate that there was so much to be done, 
else the desolation of the whole home, without 
even an attempt at comfort, might have made 
her heart fail her, till she must have returned to 
the lovely home in the city she had left behind 
for love of two unknown brothers. 

The work of setting the table did not progress 
so rapidly as it might have done under other 
circumstances. In the first place, the table re- 
ceived a thorough scrubbing, as the two young 
men had not thought it necessary to wipe off 
any stray molasses drops for many a day. They 
had supposed a table was an article of furniture 
that would clean itself in some way. Then a 
table-cloth must be searched for. Napkins she 
did not find, but supplied them from a few she 


1 


32 


IN THE WAY 


had brought in her trunk. She also placed in 
the center of the table a daintily embroidered 
bit of linen, and then after surveying the general 
effect, decided that it did not fit into its present 
surroundings. There would need to be great 
changes made in that room before the doily 
would belong there. In fact, it seemed to be 
incongruous with the immediate proximity of 
the cook-stove. 

Ruth wondered furtively if there was not a 
dining room in the house, but forbore to reflect 
much on the subject, resolving to consider the 
question at her earliest convenience. Then the 
dishes came in for investigation. They were 
thick, and some were cracked and ill-smelling. 
Up on the top shelf were a few bits of rare old 
china, perhaps some of her own mother’s wed- 
ding gifts. She wiped these off tenderly, and 
washed such of the others as she considered 
necessary to the meal, not being entirely satis- 
fied with the result of David’s dish-washing. 
The table at last was set. She stood back and 
surveyed it a moment. It did not look much 
like the elegant table to which she was used to 
sitting down daily, with its fine linen, solid silver, 
cut glass, and china, and the various forks and 
spoons considered necessary in polite society for 
the different courses, but it was neat and invit- 
ing looking. 


IN THE WAY 


33 


Next she turned her attention to the menu. 
There was not much variety available until 
David returned from the store. There were 
eggs and potatoes, and cheese and crackers, 
and plenty of milk and cream, and — yes, there 
was the ham. She despised the very thought of 
ham herself; but probably David liked it, and 
she would sacrifice her feelings and cook him a 
bit, for he must be very hungry after all these 
months of his own housekeeping. So she toasted 
some of the cheese, after grating it on the crack- 
ers, creamed the potatoes, made a puffy brown 
omelet, and crisped a bit of the ham by way of 
decoration. She had everything ready, and was 
just making a cup of most delicious coffee as 
her brother rode into the yard. 

To understand David’s feelings when he opened 
that kitchen door and saw that table, you must 
be a man and keep house for yourself for a few 
months. In spite of the fact that many of the 
so-considered necessities of a good meal were 
missing, and that there was no bread, the young 
man considered it the best meal he had eaten in 
years. In fact, he was not sure but things tasted 
better than they ever had in his life, except per- 
haps that gingerbread his mother used to make. 

He told Ruth so, and her eyes grew bright and 
her heart beat fast with the pleasure. She felt 
well rewarded for her efforts. She resolved also, 
c 


34 


IN THE WAY 


if possible, to have some warm gingerbread very 
soon for David, and meanwhile she started some 
bread with the yeast which he had brought, 
which she was sure would be delicious. She 
was an expert in the art of bread-making. 

But the work of regulating that kitchen was 
by no means more than begun, so though she 
had been somewhat weary before lunch, she 
went to work again as soon as David had gone 
out. 

The washing of the dishes proved to be not 
so 'rapid as she had intended it to be. She 
unceremoniously dumped the ill-smelling dish- 
cloth into the fire, and washed all the others 
out in scalding water before beginning. Then 
when the dishes stood shining from their bath in 
boiling water, dry already, because allowed to 
drain scientifically, she attacked the china closet. 
It would never do to put the dishes back into 
such a state of hubbub. She stood a moment 
reflecting, and then put all the remaining dishes 
into the hot suds and washed off the shelves. 
Of course boys could not be expected to know 
how to clean house, and evidently this one had 
not been cleaned since Aunt Nancy’s death. 

When that cupboard was cleaned and the dishes 
in shining order, her excitement had reached 
such a point that she felt she could not rest till 
the mantel and clock shelf were also cleaned of 


IN THE WAY 


35 


their rubbish. And it was while she was engaged 
in cleaning off that same mantel that she came on 
something which made her heart almost stop in 
dismay, and for an instant she felt as though 
she must turn and flee out of that house and 
away from that place as fast as she could go. 


CHAPTER III 


I T was not dirt, nor insects, nor a revolver, nor 
a serpent, nor a whisky bottle. It was only 
David’s black, ugly pipe. But it gave her such 
a throb of disappointment and disgust, that she 
found herself trembling and weak, and obliged 
to sit down to regain her strength. 

She had been brought up very rigidly with re- 
gard to the questions of temperance and tobacco. 
Her adopted father had never smoked, and her 
adopted mother had taught her that it was a vile 
and filthy habit, not only making the persons 
addicted to it disagreeable nuisances, but making 
them dishonor and defile their bodies, the temples 
of the Holy Ghost. Ruth had thought and 
read a great deal on the subject. She had tried 
and succeeded in turning every member of her 
large Sunday-school class of boys against the 
habit. She had been an enthusiastic member of 
a club of young Christian women who were 
banded together pledged not to select their 
friends from among the young men who smoked, 
and never to consent to walk the street with a 
young man who was smoking. It was in her 
eyes a disgrace. Now to find that one of her 
36 


IN THE WAY 


37 


own brothers — perhaps both — smoked, was ter- 
rible. The bl^od^ rolled in waves over her fair 
neck and cheeks at the disappointment and 
shame and disgrace it, and the tears would 
come in spite of herself. To have her brother 
wear no collar had been a surprise, but a collar 
was not a vital matter. This black pipe was. 

It required a moment’s prayer before she could 
calmly return to that mantelpiece. What to do 
with that pipe was a serious question. She 
hated to touch it. She had never touched a 
pipe or cigar in her life. After some considera- 
tion she got a newspaper, and by help of a burnt 
match, shoved the pipe to the paper and laid it 
on the floor in the corner where no harm could 
come to it. She would have liked to destroy it, 
but she knew that would do more harm than 
good, and besides, it was not hers, and she had 
no right to do any such thing. However, during 
the remainder of her work that afternoon, she 
was reflecting on what course she should pursue 
with regard to it, and many were the prayers for 
guidance that she sent up. 

As she worked and prayed her heart grew 
calmer. Perhaps, after all, it might have be- 
longed to some hired man ; she would try to 
think so for the sake of her own peace of mind, at 
least for this afternoon. Happily it did not occur 
to her to think that it might have belonged to 


IN THE WAY 


38 

her own father. There was too much to be 
done for her to dwell upon details. She had 
set her heart upon having a cheerful room for 
her two brothers to come home to that evening. 

She viewed the contents of the pantry with ut- 
most scorn, and doubtless gave those two young 
men more pity than they deserved, for they had 
fed upon such fare so long that it was not the 
hardship to them to eat such things that it would 
have been to their dainty sister. 

It may have been her compassion which led her 
to plan a rather elaborate supper, considering 
her recent arrival and the state of the kitchen. 
For though she was somewhat weary with travel- 
ing, her nerves were keyed high to accomplish 
what she purposed. She arose from her knees 
where she had been washing the oilcloth under 
the stove by the door, and stood thinking a 
moment. Then she shut her lips firmly and 
rapidly went to work making a custard and 
some gingerbread. After all it did not take long 
to do things when one had the will. When 
they were in the oven she went back to her 
housecleaning with renewed energy. Given 
nerves, a quick brain, and a pair of deft and 
willing hands, great changes can be wrought in 
the course of an afternoon. David came to the 
door once, from his work, to ask if she was lone- 
some and if there was anything he could do. 


IN THE WAY 


39 


and looked about helplessly on her work and 
went away bewildered. He had a dim idea that 
this was not exactly the way to entertain a city 
young lady on the first day of her arrival ; but 
she seemed determined, and what could he do? 

She had promised to call him if she needed 
anything, and by and by she did open the door 
and ask for his help a moment. She had ven- 
tured into one of the unused rooms on the 
ground floor ; it seemed to have been a bedroom, 
and she called David to know if he would mind 
if she took the large rug made of rag carpet, 
from the center of that room to spread in the 
kitchen. He was entirely willing she should do 
anything she pleased in the house, and awk- 
wardly helped her to shake it and arrange it 
under the kitchen table. Then he stood a 
moment irresolutely by the door wishing he 
knew something else to do, but finally went out. 

Ruth worked hard. It grew late before things 
were in the order that pleased her fastidious 
taste. It was growing dark. She wondered 
why Joseph did not come, and yet was glad he 
delayed, and finally she stood a moment and 
gave a last look at her completed task before 
she slipped away to her room to smooth her hair 
and remove the traces of toil from face and 
hands and dress. 

Everything was immaculately clean. The 


40 


IN THE WAY 


lamp chimney shone with cleanliness, and the 
light glowed through a rose-colored crape paper 
shade she had hastily improvised from a roll of 
paper in her trunk. The table was set decently 
and in order, as nearly like that of her city home 
as she could compass with her present material. 
There was a plate of delicate, puffy white biscuits 
suggestively near the golden honeycomb David 
had brought in that afternoon from one of the 
hives. The bread had been started so late that it 
was just now beginning to send out a wholesome 
odor from the oven, so the biscuits had been made 
in a desperate rush at the last, when the cook 
found that the bread could not possibly get itself 
ready for supper. The roasted potatoes had their 
brown coats just ready to crack open, and covered 
closely on the back of the stove was the meat, 
which had been gently simmering all the after- 
noon, till it was tender as could be, and browned 
to a nicety with a savory gravy about it. The 
coffee gave a hint of its aroma also. 

It is necessary to understand the details of this 
first supper of the united family in the old home, 
that you may be able to enter into the feelings 
of the young man who entered by the back 
kitchen door not two minutes after the fairy 
who had wrought all this change, had departed 
to her toilet. 

Joseph had toiled hard all day doing work 


IN THE WAY 


41 


that might have waited until his brother could 
help him. Gloomily he had eaten his dry, 
solitary lunch on a log, glaring at the bright- 
ness of the day with a fierce expression of dis- 
like. Occasionally he wondered how David was 
managing at home. That he would get rid of 
the unwelcome young lady sister in some com- 
fortable way Joseph never doubted. The old 
farmhouse was no place for her. What could 
they do with her there? David would either 
send her back where she came from, or get her 
a place to board near by at some house in the 
village until something could be done with her. 

Life had been hard and disagreeable enough 
before without this rude breaking in upon the 
poor comfort of their solitude. Joseph felt a 
fierce rebellion at the unfairness of Providence 
in so ordering things, and said to himself two or 
three times that it wasn’t of much account to live 
anyway. He had indeed reached a stage of his 
life where he was dissatisfied with his surround- 
ings. He did not know that his restless, un- 
happy feelings came from a longing for a higher, 
richer life. He had been brought up to this ; 
how should he know there was anything better ? 
To work hard all day he did not grudge, and 
in a way he enjoyed the evenings he occasion- 
ally spent in the down-town grocery ; but David 
kept a pretty steady watch on his evenings, and 


42 


IN THE WAY 


the ones he spent in the village were not so 
many as he desired. No other avenue of amuse- 
ment was at this time open to him, unless in- 
deed he went to church. There had been a 
time when he haunted the church steps during 
the progress of any meeting or entertainment or 
supper, but since he had outgrown his Sunday- 
school class at the time of the death of his first 
and only teacher he had dropped that amuse- 
ment. 

Life on the whole looked dull and uninter- 
esting to him. He had fierce, wild thoughts of 
plunging off into a city somewhere and doing as 
he pleased, though that was impracticable, for 
he had no money aside from his share in the 
farm, and his early training had at least given 
him a horror of tramps. He worked doggedly 
on in the gathering shadows until the darkness 
put a stop to his labors. Even then he was as 
slow as possible about gathering up his tools. 
He would not go home until every possible 
chance of seeing the intruder was gone. David 
would surely have disposed of her by this time, 
he thought, as he dragged his weary, unwilling 
feet homeward. 

He was growing very hungry, for his hasty 
lunch had been meager and his day long and 
filled with hard work. Fortunately he did not 
approach the house from the side where the 


IN THE WAY 


43 


kitchen windows shone bright in the rosy light 
of crape paper and clean window-glass, else he 
might have disappeared into the darkness again, 
who knows where? and for how long, who can 
tell? Instead, so sure was he that David had 
managed things somehow by this time, that he 
came in as usual through the back kitchen door. 
He paused in the shed a moment before he laid 
down his heavy tools, and listened. He heard 
nothing. All was quiet. Only the sound of 
David’s voice in the cowyard not far off, as he 
spoke to the cow he was milking, and the ring 
of the milk-pails as something hit against one of 
them. 

The light under the crack in the kitchen door 
guided him as he hung up his old coat and put 
away his tools. He was glad David had lit the 
lamp before he went out. Strange he was so 
late at milking, but probably he had been so 
busy getting their sister off somewhere that he 
had only just come home. Now that she was 
fully disposed of, he thought to himself per- 
haps it had been a little mean of him to go 
off and leave everything to David in that way. 
Not that he would do otherwise now, but he felt 
a little compassion for his brother. It was the 
penalty he paid for being the elder brother. 

Then Joseph pulled off his heavy, mud-covered 
boots, set them by the shed door, and walked 


44 


IN THE WAY 


on to where the crack showed a little cheer. 
He threw open the door and stepped in. Com- 
ing from the darkness into the unusual brilliancy 
of the room blinded him, and for a moment he 
stood winking and trying to see. Gradually the 
changed room dawned upon him one corner at 
a time. He noticed everything, even to the de- 
tails of the delicious supper prepared. He was 
dazed. Could he have made a mistake in the 
dark and gone out of his way into another man’s 
house? Was he in a dream? What was the 
matter? Had David gone and hired a house- 
keeper, and was the obnoxious sister then in the 
house, and were they waiting supper for him? 

Before he had time to think further or even 
to move from where he was standing, the oppo- 
site door opened and the sister came in. She 
was a trim little figure in a plain, dark-blue 
dress and a white apron. She saw her brother 
at once. Some women are gifted with being 
able to read men at a glance. Perhaps too, some 
words that David had spoken, or more, the words 
he had not spoken, about this brother, had helped 
her to know what to expect in him, and she had 
made up her mind to win him if possible. Her 
greeting was as sensible and sweet and winning 
as could be desired by any brother, no matter 
how crusty he was feeling. 

“Oh, this is Joseph, isn’t it? I’m so glad 


IN THE WAY 


45 


you’ve come, for supper is all ready, and the 
potatoes are horrid if they are not eaten the 
minute they are ready.” And she reached up 
and kissed the bewildered, embarrassed, uncom- 
fortable young man just as if she had been ac- 
customed to kissing him every day all the years 
of her life. 

He was painfully conscious of his old brown 
jean shirt and his stockinged feet, especially as 
the weekly darning had been neglected for 
many a long week. But she, with a cultured 
woman’s instinct, understood his embarrass- 
ment and covered it by cheerily bustling about 
at her supper, telling him to hurry and get 
his hands washed, and asking if she could not 
find his slippers for him. David came in just 
then, the full brightness of the room burst- 
ing upon him for the first time, and his heart 
leaped with a new kind of joy he had not im- 
agined was possible. Was it going to be a 
happy thing after all to have this high-bred 
sister live with them? Was it possible there 
was in the world for them as much brightness 
as this kitchen contained, to be lived in every 
day in the week, all the year around ? He had 
supposed it was only rich city people who had 
things so kind of comfortable and cheery look- 
ing. 

Then presently they sat down to that supper 


IN THE WAY 


46 

table. The meat and potatoes vanished rapidly, 
for the two young men were hungry. Only the 
cook did not partake very freely, but her nerves 
were too highly strung, and she was too weary 
to eat much. The Benedict boys discovered 
that their sister could cook. She was so lately 
the pupil of a famous cooking school that it had 
been easier for her to prepare this somewhat 
elaborate repast under the circumstances, than it 
would have been for most city girls who had in- 
deed been taught to cook, but who had not had 
the opportunities for every-day practice which 
her wise foster-mother had given her. So Ruth 
thanked God for her ability to cook as she 
watched the great pile of puffy biscuits disap- 
pear rapidly. For the brothers did justice to 
the supper, the like of which they seemed never 
to have tasted before. 

There were embarrassments connected with 
the meal, and Ruth was glad that they were 
hungry, in order that they should not feel quite 
so awkward. Instinctively she felt that she was 
on sufferance with her younger brother, and 
perhaps to some extent with the elder also. She 
dared not stop to think of it, or she would have 
broken down and cried. It seemed too dreadful 
to have come all this way to find brotherly love, 
and to be all alone in the world, and then to find 
that one was not wanted. Her better sense told 


IN THE WAY 


47 


her that she was needed there, and some heavenly 
influence seemed to say God had a work for her. 
She tried to remember that she had but just 
come, and they did not know her nor know what 
to do with her. 

She must make a place for herself in their 
hearts first. She must at least show them what 
she was and had to give them, and then if they 
did not want her she could go away ; and so 
she put aside the pride which kept coming up 
to trouble her at the thought that she was not 
wanted, and calling to her aid all those winning 
ways that were hers by nature, as well as of 
grace, she set herself to win her brother Joseph. 
With glowing cheeks and bright eyes, looking 
first at one and then at the other brother, and 
with well-chosen, pleasant words she told bright 
bits of things that had occurred on her journey. 
She made them laugh several times, which was 
a great help. 

They forgot for the moment that she was 
city bred, and that they must have a care for 
the way they managed their forks, articles 
which had sorely oppressed them during the 
beginning of the meal, for Aunt Nancy’s train- 
ing in table etiquette had seldom included the 
use of the fork in preference to the knife. David 
even ventured to respond to her bright talk oc- 
casionally, and secretly voted her unusually jolly 


IN THE WAY 


48 

for a girl. Joseph seemed silent, almost shy, 
watehing the new sister furtively, enjoying the 
good gheer, but wearing an air that said as 
plainly as words could have said, “ I’m not to 
be fooled into liking you by all this.” 

At last the evening was over, the preparations 
made for the morning meal, and the weary young 
woman was at leisure to rest and think. 

It was in the quiet of the bare room upstairs, 
whose dull ingrain carpet, helped out on one end 
by a breadth of faded rag carpet, seemed to in- 
tensify the dreariness. The only other furniture 
was a plain old bed of the kind known as a cord 
bedstead, two wooden chairs, a wooden table, 
with wash-bowl and pitcher, and a small, cheap, 
gilt-framed looking-glass hanging over it. There 
was a closet in the room, and a green paper 
shade at the window, and the lamp which she 
had brought up with her and deposited on a 
rude wooden shelf over the chimney shed a dull, 
desolate light over all. Ruth’s tired nerves gave 
out at last, and she sat down in the wooden 
chair by the door and cried. Why had she 
come here after all? Her lawyer had begged 
her to write and find out about things, or let 
him come on ahead and survey the land. Her 
many friends, and her foster-mother’s as well, 
had opened their hearts and homes to her. A 
dear old friend of her mother had offered to 


IN THE WAY 


49 


make her home with Ruth, in case she preferred 
remaining in the old home, which was hers to 
do with as she pleased. But she had refused 
them all and had come here, stubbornly perhaps, 
but feeling that it was what Christ would have 
her do. It was what her own father and mother 
would have had her do, as well as what would 
please the dear ones who had for so many years 
occupied the places of father and mother in her 
heart. Had it all been a mistake? Ought she 
to have waited ? Did she then have no call from 
God to come ? Should she have stayed in the 
city ? 

There were many things she might have done 
to feel that she was of use in the world. Not 
that she needed to earn her living, for she was 
amply provided for as far as money went, but 
she might have gone into city mission work. 
She could have given her time to church work. 
She was a graduate of a school for physical cul- 
ture. She could have given some time to teach- 
ing and helping poor overworked girls to a better 
physical life, and so have led them step by step 
to a better spiritual life through this influence. 
She might have organized classes in cooking, or 
dressmaking, or millinery, among young women 
who were too poor to afford to go to the schools 
where such things are taught. She had de- 
lighted in all such things herself and was one 


50 


IN THE WAY 


of those people who can turn their hands to al- 
most anything. The father and mother who 
now were gone had made it their pleasure to see 
that she had the best instruction in any line 
which seemed to please her. She thought now 
of the many words of praise she had received 
for this or that little service which she had per- 
formed well, and how others had envied her 
varied skill. She had not thought much of it 
then, because anything she tried to do always 
seemed easy to her. Now . Satan came to tempt 
her with the thought that she ought not to bury 
these talents up here in the country, when they 
might be reaching hundreds, instead of just tw^o 
young men who really did not want her to stay. 
Then something seemed to say : “ But they are 
my brothers, and if I have any talents I can use 
them here as well as in the city. Jesus Christ 
knows what is best for me to do, and he will 
show me what I must do next. I will ask 
him.” 

She knelt beside the ugly bed and told all her 
troubles, asking that she might be guided in the 
way he would have her go ; that she might be 
humble, and not seek to do work he did not 
want her to do ; that the Tord would bless her 
brothers, and if possible give them some love 
for her. Then she rose and went about her 
preparations for the night with the tumult in 


IN WAY 


51 


her heart stayed. Even the creaking of the 
cord bed did not serve to rouse the evil thoughts 
again, though it certainly was not pleasant. 
She fell asleep wondering whether she would 
always care about little things and be so annoyed 
by them, and if eating with one’s knife and 
wearing no collar would be barriers of the true 
love that ought to exist between brother and 
sister, supposing that there was no way to get 
rid of these little annoyances. She was dis- 
tressed with herself beyond measure that she 
noticed these things. Why was it that she 
noticed them so much more than if they had 
been in some of her Sunday-school scholars? 
True, these men were her own flesh and blood — 
her brothers. Yes, it was pride after all. But 
the others were her own brothers and sisters in 
Christ. She was God’s, and he would take care 
of it all, she thought ; and then she fell asleep. 


CHAPTER IV 


J OSEPH spoke but little at breakfast, and 
went off to work soon after the meal was 
completed. David seemed to Ruth much 
changed. He had had time to reflect and get 
himself out of the maze of unexpected prob- 
lems into which he had been plunged by Ruth’s 
letter and arrival. He showed great kindness, 
even tenderness and thoughtfulness, with regard 
to her comfort. He said at once that they must 
have some help in the house, and spoke cheer- 
fully about his desire to have things bright and 
pleasant for her. He even went so far as to tell 
her that he had never dreamed there could be 
so much comfort in any home as she had brought 
to theirs during the few short hours since her 
arrival. 

Ruth flushed pink over his praise, for she 
recognized that it had been hard for him to 
say these things, and that to him, hardened and 
roughened by his outdoor work, she seemed a 
very dainty, fashionable creature, more to be 
looked at than used, and that, in a way, he was 
afraid of her. Still she felt that this feeling 
was wearing away with him and that they 
52 


IN THE WAY 


53 


would presently be as frank and friendly as 
though they had always known one another. 
She decided that David was a true gentleman, 
and she divided the word into two parts when 
she said it softly to herself while she washed 
the dishes, and she put an emphasis on the word 
“gentle,” with all its ancient, courtly, noble 
meaning. Yes, it was going to be very easy to 
love him as a brother, she felt. As for Joseph, 
he was very interesting, and she felt sure the 
love would come. No need to worry about that. 
They were brother and sister, and all the tender- 
ness of that relationship would surely come by 
and by. Her troubles seemed to be lightened 
by the morning light and she felt more hopeful 
of the future, and thus fell to planning. 

She had discovered in her talk with David 
that the idea of hired help had been a great 
bugbear to the brothers on account of the ex- 
treme familiarity with the family which all the 
Summerton girls who “ lived out ” expected. 
They dreaded it. David in particular seemed 
to stand in horror of having Eliza Barnes or 
Jane Myrtilla Fowler sitting at the table at 
every meal and speaking to him as “ Dave Bene- 
dict.” He had also tried in a helpless kind of 
way to explain to his sister how utterly un lik^ 
her these girls were and how incongruouyK 
would be to see them sitting across the table 


54 


IN THE WAY 


from her. David had an innate delicacy about 
him which was more than mere worldly pride, 
Ruth laughed brightly at the idea that there 
would be anything out of the way in her eating 
at the same table with the said Jane Myrtilla if 
need be, but secretly she saw exactly how 
unwise it would be for them to try to have 
another element in their already mixed house- 
hold. Matters must be simplified as much as 
possible if they were to find a common level for 
all three to live upon. It would not do to have 
a stranger always about who might possibly 
report to the entire town anything which was 
said at the table by any one of them. Ruth sat 
down perplexed. Something must be done. 
She must talk it over with David. The house 
needed cleaning. There would be hard work to 
which she was unaccustomed, which even if she 
felt competent to do might end by making her ill. 

A bright idea suddenly occurred to her. 
Sally, the cook, of whom she had taken a sor- 
rowful leave but four days before, had been in 
her foster-mother’s family for twelve years. She 
had been rescued from a life of trouble and taken 
in by Mrs. Benedict, and she felt a gratitude 
which knew no bounds. She had clasped the 
young girl in her arms in a reverent kind of 
way as she bade her good-bye and said, “ Yeh 
dear little thing, yeh ! Miss Ruth, if ye’ll jist 


IN THE WAY 


55 


say the word ony time and wroite me, I’ll folly 
ye to the inds of the earth.” Now, it was but 
four days since she had left and she was going 
to her sister’s to stay till she had found a suita- 
ble place. Perhaps it was not too late to secure 
her. Ruth thought over all the possibilities, 
pictured Sally, used to large rooms, elegant furni- 
ture, and fine, cooking, placed in the plain farm- 
house, and decided what she would do. She 
would put the matter before her plainly and let 
her decide for herself. Ruth ran to the door 
and called David. He came quickly from the 
barnyard, where he was busy about some work, 
thinking to himself how very pleasant it was to 
have some one there to call him. 

“David, isn’t there some woman who will 
come in to clean house and go home to her 
meals for a few days ? Or can we get along for 
a few days almost anyway, you know ? I have a 
plan.” 

David thought a moment and finally decided 
on a good, strong colored woman who might be 
induced to go out by the day for a short time. 
Then Ruth unfolded her plan. David was some- 
what dubious about introducing another un- 
known quantity into the household, but he was 
already beginning to have unbounded confidence 
in the young woman who was at the helm, so he 
gave his assent to her proposition. Ruth then 


IN THE WAY 


56 

went in to write to Sally, while David prepared 
to “ hitch up ” and take the letter to the office. 

After Ruth had dinner well under way she 
took a survey of the house, trying not to feel 
the chill of desolation as she entered one after 
another the great bare rooms. It made her 
shudder to feel the cold air that struck her even 
on this warm day in late summer as she opened 
the closed rooms. She threw open all the shut- 
ters and let the sunlight stream in from garret 
to cellar, even over the sacred haircloth fur- 
niture in the well-guarded “ front room ” which 
Aunt Nancy had carefully kept just as it had 
been when she came, and which, since the moth- 
er’s death, had not been used. There was a wax 
cross with clambering, impossible flowers, under 
a glass globe on the marble-top table. There 
were several thread tidies in elaborate patterns 
on the haircloth chairs and sofa. The small 
box stove that was supposed to heat the room 
had a grim, leering effect, with a few cobwebs 
draped across its front. The yellow paper 
shades had stiff baskets of fruit pictured on 
them by way of decoration. The ingrain car- 
pet was a bold attempt in crude reds and greens. 
Beside the glass globe on the center table, there 
was a large old-fashioned family Bible, and on 
it lay a red plush album with a looking-glass on 
the upper cover. It looked absurdly new and 


IN THE WAY 


57 


out of place amid the old-fashioned atmosphere 
of the room. It had been Aunt Nancy’s pur- 
chase of a traveling agent for whom she felt 
sorry, and she had excused the unwonted ex- 
travagance by saying that “ the woman needed 
help, and an album was a handy thing to have 
in the house, anyway.” It was about the only 
luxury that Aunt Nancy had ever permitted her- 
self to purchase in the whole of her lifetime, for 
she was of a saving disposition and had been 
brought up to economical habits. 

There was a framed wreath of hair flowers 
under glass and there were some portraits on the 
wall, queer old-fashioned photographs and da- 
guerreotypes in oval gilt, or frames of ancient 
pine cones and varnished coffee berries. The 
faces were faded and the hair and dress were of 
years before. It made them seem unreal. She 
wished she knew which were her own father 
and mother.* It was so strange a position, hers, 
not to know the look of the faces of those who 
had been the source of her being. With a 
sinking sensation as if everything were slipping 
away from her, she reached out her hand to the 
Bible and read a part of the ninety-first Psalm : 

“ He that dwelleth in the secret place of the 
Most High shall abide under the shadow of the 
Almighty.” 

There came a warm thrill of joy to her heart, 


IN THE WAY 


58 

and it was as if her Master were speaking sweet 
words in her ear. Here was a message for her, 
and perhaps then she was v/anted just here to 
live and work for him. If she were under the 
shadow of the Almighty, then surely no earthly 
shadows could ever fall upon her. It was hers 
to dwell in the secret place of the Most High if 
she would. She dropped upon her knees and 
asked for strength to dwell in that sweet secret 
place, and then again for guidance in this her 
much-hedged-about path. 

Then Ruth deliberately sat her down to face 
the question of this bare, old-fashioned, unat- 
tractive house — almost uninhabitable it seemed 
to her refined taste, used to having everything 
arranged in comfort and harmony. In the first 
place, the furniture was not abundant, and what 
there was, was of the stiff, hard kind. How 
could she ever make this home attractive and 
comfortable for her brothers and pleasant for 
herself ? Some of the furnishings had suffered 
through much use and some through neglect. 
The boys had not been careful housekeepers. 
How could they have been expected to be ? 
The rag carpets were musty from long dampness 
and lack of air in the rooms. Ruth leaned her 
head against the hard haircloth back of the 
only arm-chair the room contained and closed 
her eyes, thinking wearily and hungrily of the 


IN THE WAY 


59 


soft carpets in rich harmonious colorings which 
covered all the floors of the home she had left, 
and of the easy-chairs and pretty curtains, and 
oh ! all the pretty belongings of a comfortable, 
even luxurious, city home. She had helped to 
select many of those home furnishings, and her 
heart ached for a sight of them even after one 
day’s absence. If she only dared bring them 
here, or some of them, but no — and here she 
sat erect. Was it possible that she was so bound 
down to mere things that she could not give 
them up for a time ? Her brothers might be se- 
riously offended if she should propose such a 
thing. Besides, she had put the house, furni- 
ture and all, into the hands of her agent to rent, 
and it was doubtless by this time rented. She 
had burnt her bridges behind her and must not 
look back. 

David’s step as he came through the hall from 
the kitchen in search of her, roused her effec- 
tually. Had he returned so soon ? She smiled 
as she heard his hesitating voice calling her by 
name. He scarcely felt that he had a right to 
speak to her so familiarly. A thought of sorrow 
that it should be so between own brother and 
sister came to her, and then she met him in the 
hall. He had brought her a letter, and as she 
took it a swift hope passed over her that maybe 
the Lord was calling her in other directions, that 


6o 


IN THE WAY 


this letter contained an answer to her prayer. 
She tore it open hastily, while David stood 
awkwardly by, watching her, not knowing 
whether to go or stay, and half fearing himself 
that this letter might in some way snatch this 
new-found sister away from the gloomy house. 
He was beginning to be thoroughly glad she 
had come, even so soon. 

But no, she found that there was no call for 
her to come back to the city. Instead, it was a 
letter from her agent saying he had an oppor- 
tunity to rent the house at a good rate unfur- 
nished, if only she were willing to have her 
goods stored. He desired to have an immediate 
reply as to whether she wished him to close 
this bargain or not, and awaited her orders 
concerning the furniture, in case she chose to 
have the articles taken from the house. He 
added in a postscript, that as they had so often 
talked over the matter of renting unfurnished, 
and decided it was best to rent furnished under 
the circumstances, he feared she might consider 
that he had taken a good deal upon himself to 
consider the matter at all ; but the fact that the 
parties wishing to rent were such exceptionally 
fine tenants and willing to pay so high a rent 
had made him feel that possibly she would wish 
to change her mind. 

Ruth read the letter through twice, standing 


IN THE WAY 


6l 


there in the hall, and then sighed and wished 
she had some one to advise her, and so looking 
up met the clear admiring eyes of her brother 
fixed upon her. Why, to be sure ! David could 
advise her, and was it possible this letter was in 
answer to prayer for guidance ? Was it put in 
this way that it might be easy for her to bring 
her own furniture here without offense? With- 
out more ado she handed the open letter to 
David and sank upon the lower step of the 
staircase saying, “There, David, tell me what to 
do?” 

Surely God’s Holy Spirit was guiding her 
every action. She could not have done any- 
thing which would have more completely and 
quickly won the heart of her brother than to 
thus freely and frankly give him her entire con- 
fidence. It changed the face of matters quite 
materially in his mind. He was no longer being 
condescended to by an angel who had suddenly 
dropped down and might as suddenly and mys- 
teriously disappear, but he was being looked up 
to as a brother by one who needed help, advice, 
and protection. His heart warmed instantly with 
the thought that he would protect her always 
from everything just so long as she would let 
him. Then he read the letter. Ruth watched 
him as he read and decided again that he was 
handsdine. There was a look and bearing about 


62 


IN THE WAY 


him which reminded her of his Uncle Hiram, 
who had been known to her all her life as her 
father. She wondered if he did not resemble 
their father. 

David had a few questions to ask. Did she 
know what the rates of storage in the city were? 
Were they not very high ? Was she attached to 
the furniture? Would she like to have some or 
perhaps all of it about her? Would it not make 
the old farmhouse seem more homelike to her? 
He had a dim recollection of rich blendings of 
color and soft luxury of which he had caught a 
glimpse on that memorable visit to his Aunt 
Ruth’s, and a fine instinct told him that the 
haircloth furniture and rag carpets must be a 
decided contrast. Her face flushed and her eyes 
grew bright with eagerness as he asked this last 
question. 

Oh, she would like to have her things here ; 
might she ? She clasped her hands in her eager- 
ness and came and stood shyly by his side, look- 
ing up at him. Was he sure they would not be 
in the way? Would he mind having her put 
them in place of some of the present furnish- 
ings? She did not want to do anything which 
would hurt his feelings or Joseph’s, and if he 
was attached to the things he had been used to 
all his life, she was perfectly willing to live just 
as they did. (At this instant she made up her 


IN THE WAY 


^3 


mind to really like that red and green ingrain 
in the parlor, if it was necessary in order to 
win her brothers’ love.) 

But David was in no wise offended. He was 
pleased at the idea of pleasing his sister. He 
knew their things were old and ugly and that 
probably if she had lived at home they would 
have been different ; but Aunt Nancy’s taste had 
been severely plain and they and their father 
had never thought, if they had known how, to get 
better. It did not matter anyway for just men, 
he said a little sadly and added: “But if you 
will stay and brighten up this old place for us — 
if you think you can stand it here and not get 
lonesome — why we’ll do everything we can to 
make it pleasant for you. Joe is a little back- 
ward and he’ll hold off for a few days, but he’ll 
be acquainted with you in a little while, I guess, 
and then he won’t seem quite so shy and sullen. 
He’s not much but a boy anyway, you know, and 
he’s always been inclined to be stubborn and have 
a way of his own. Maybe you can help make 
him different. I think father always had some 
idea of giving him a better education than could 
be got here, but things didn’t go so well on the 
farm the last few years before he died and he 
couldn’t. There was an old mortgage to pay 
off that kept him down all his life. But Joe 
and I paid the last cent on that two months ago, 


64 


IN THE WAY 


and I guess we can afford to paint the house and 
fix up a bit if you can stay with us. Things 
need to be different for a woman. Do you think 
you can stand it ? ” he asked wistfully. 

“Of course I can,” she answered, brushing 
away happy tears that his words had brought to 
her eyes. “ David, I came here to find my 
brothers. I don’t care about things. But I 
should like to bring the furniture here, for I 
think I could make it cozier for you and Joseph, 
and so if you are sure you don’t mind I’ll send 
for them to-day. But see here, David. I have 
not come here to be a burden on you. I am not 
penniless. I’m to bear my full share of every- 
thing if I stay.” 

It was then that David sat down upon the 
stairs beside his sister, and they had a talk that 
was more like what a talk between brother and 
sister should be than Ruth had been able to 
hope for. She went back to her dinner-getting 
and David to his farm-work, with happy, light 
hearts. Ruth sang about her work : 

“Wherever he may guide me, 

No want shall turn me back, 

My Shepherd is beside me. 

And nothing shall I lack. 

His wisdom ever waketh. 

His sight is never dim. 

He knows the way he taketh 
And I will walk with him.” 


CHAPTER V 


R uth stood in the doorway of her brother 
Joseph’s room. She was trying to plan 
what changes she would make, and what articles 
from the city home should be put into it. She 
felt like a fairy about to wave her wand and 
luring beauty over everything, and she was as 
excited and happy over it all as a child with a 
new toy. The bare room had given her a 
heartache. That any human being should have 
so dreary a place for the only spot which he 
could call his own, seemed very pitiful to her 
brought up amid a wealth of beauty. She would 
delight to make it all different. Joseph had 
been told that his sister was to bring her furni- 
ture to the home, but he had not seemed to mani- 
fest much interest in it. He was still very reti- 
cent with his sister, to say the least. Indeed, he 
sometimes seemed harder to win than ever. 
Ruth could not understand it. She wondered 
about it now, as she stood in the door of the 
desolate room and planned how she would 
change it. Perhaps David might have ex- 
plained his brother’s actions if he had thought 
about them at all. In a measure, Ruth herself 
E 65 


66 


IN THE WAY 


had had a hand in bringing about a dogged de- 
termination to have nothing whatever to do with 
her more than was absolutely necessary. It had 
happened in this wise. 

During the frank, free talk which Ruth had 
held with her brother David, after the arrival of 
that letter about her house and furniture, the 
brother and sister had opened their hearts to one 
another in a way that each would have thought 
impossible an hour before. Ruth, as the talk 
concluded, made up her mind that she would 
find out the truth about that horrid pipe. 

“ David,” said she at last, lifting her clear, 
sweet eyes to his face, “ I found something when 
I was clearing up that troubled me very much. 
I was so afraid it belonged to some member of 
my family. I do hope it doesn't. Do tell me 
it was the property of some hired man. I can’t 
bear to think either of my brothers uses it. 
Wait ! I’ll get it,” and she slipped out to the 
back kitchen where she had deposited her paper, 
and brought it with very gingerly fingers. 

David took it anxiously and opened the paper. 
Then the rich red blood rolled from neck to 
forehead. He was ashamed before this sweet 
sister. Never before had the old black pipe 
seemed obnoxious. He had always looked upon 
it as a friend in his loneliness, a thing as pleas- 
ant as anything which came into his life. But 


IN THE WAY 


67 

suddenly, without ever having heard an argu- 
ment against smoking, without even reasoning 
on the subject, he seemed to see this little bit of 
filthy clay through the eyes of the young girl 
who stood beside him, and he felt a disgust for it 
and for himself that he had ever had to do with it. 
David’s was a fine nature. It is not many men 
who would have felt this instinctively ; others 
might have come to the point through reason 
or conscience or reverence for another’s protest 
persistently made. This man saw in a flash, by 
the revelation of the curl of disgust in the deli- 
cate lips, and the eager pleading in the earnest 
eyes of his sister, how a more refined being such 
as she was might look upon this subject, and be- 
fore his reason grasped it he had sjrrrendered to 
what seemed grandest, noblest, and best in life 
to do. He might have a struggle with himself 
afterward to carry out his purpose — doubtless 
would — but certain it was, he would never will- 
ingly smoke again. He answered very little. 
His downcast eyes convicted him. He folded 
the paper together with a hasty movement. 

“ I am sorry about it. This shall not trouble 
you any more,” he said, and strode away to the 
barnyard ; but the look he gave his sister as he 
said those words made her feel glad and proud of 
her brother, though she could not explain why. 

But this was not the end. When Joseph 


68 


IN THE WAY 


came home that night his elder brother was on 
the watch for him and called him to the shelter 
of the barnyard. Now David was not so wise 
in his dealings with the brother but four years 
younger than himself as he might have been. 
Perhaps it was because he felt the load of anxi- 
ety so heavy upon him as he remembered his 
dying father’s request : “ David, you look after 
Joseph. He’s not so steady as you, you know. 
Don’t you let him get astray.” And David had 
tried to carry out his father’s request ; but Joseph 
bitterly resented being interfered with, and it 
was not always easy to keep him in the straight 
path. 

“Joe,” said David severely, as they came in the 
shadow of the great barn, “ don’t you go to smok- 
ing around the house any more. She don’t like it. 
She’d be perfectly horrified if she saw you with 
a pipe in your mouth, and if you dare so much 
as bring out a pipe to light it around where she 
is you’ll be sorry, that’s all. You had better give 
it up. She’ll be sure to smell it on your clothes, 
and I know by the way she looked when she 
brought mine to me that she hates it. She’ll 
never think anything of you if she finds out you 
smoke.” 

David wanted to make his speech very intense, 
and so he had gone on saying the most unwise 
things that could be thought of. By the time 


IN THE WAY 69 

he had come to this climax his younger brother 
was exceedingly angry. 

“She needn’t trouble herself,” he replied an- 
grily. “The less she thinks of me the better I 
am pleased. If you think I am going to give 
up my rights in my own house, you are mis- 
taken. I’ll smoke as much as I please, and 
light my pipe in the kitchen if I choose. You’ve 
sat in that kitchen and smoked whole evenings 
yourself. You needn’t be so holy all of a sud- 
den. It is just as I expected. The minute you 
get a woman in the house everything has got to 
be turned upside down to suit her. If you’re go- 
ing in for that sort of thing I’ll clear out. 
There’s places enough I can smoke, if the house 
gets too hot for me.” Here his brows were drawn 
in an ugly, threatening scowl. “ And as for my 
part, I shall do all in my power to make it un- 
comfortable for her, for the sooner she gets out 
of this and back to her city home the better I 
shall like it.” 

With this parting hit he had betaken himself 
to the house where he had eaten his supper in 
silence and then departed to the village grocery. 
He meant to carry out his intention of smoking 
in the kitchen if he chose, but he preferred to 
think it over in the pleasant jovial atmosphere 
of the village grocery before he decided what 
line of action he would pursue. The supper 


70 


IN THE WAY 


had certainly been a good one and he had been 
hungry after the long day’s work. Neither had 
he quite the face to carry out his threat that 
night ; the new sister was so bright and smiling 
and ready to do anything or get anything for 
him. There came too an almost irresistible 
longing to give up and be a part of all this cozi- 
ness which had come to the old farmhouse, only 
he was too stubborn to relent. At the grocery 
he was accosted by various welcomes born of 
curiosity. “Hello, Joe,” said some of his inti- 
mate friends who helped him to smoke the even- 
ing away. “Got company at your house, ain’t 
you?” and in the question many things were 
expressed: curiosity, a decided wish to know 
how the land lay, eagerness for a bit of gossip 
and willingness to join in laugh or ridicule of 
the new guest if that was the mind of the 
brother. But Joseph did not give them much 
satisfaction. 

He did not quite understand himself and so 
was not ready with his usual caustic sarcasms at 
the expense of anybody for them to laugh at. 
He said “Yes!” short and sharp and the com- 
pany of loafers, young and old, understood that 
the door to that conversation had been shut; 
nay, rather, slammed and decidedly locked in 
their faces for the evening. They set to work 
to study Joseph in their dull way to find out 


IN THE WAY 


71 


what mystery of like or dislike there might be 
behind his manner, but could not determine. 
He was silent for the most part, unless there was 
opportunity to turn a joke against one of them 
and then his words were sharper than usual, 
fairly making some of his victims writhe. 

He had come as yet to no conclusion except 
that he would do as he pleased ; but the days 
went by, two or three of them, and he still con- 
tinued to work in that far-away wood lot. He 
smoked a good deal during his lonely morning and 
on his homeward road, taking a fierce delight in 
thus defying his brother’s urgent advice, but as 
yet he had not attempted to bring out pipe or 
match in the presence of his sister. If it were 
necessary in order to defy David he would have 
done it, but unless provocation should arise he 
would hardly have the face to do it. Neverthe- 
less, he came to the table with the strong odor 
of tobacco about him and Ruth understood that 
her younger brother smoked, and thought and 
pondered how she might win his love that per- 
chance she rriight get him to give up this habit 
some day. 

And she stood in the desolate room. It was 
large and square and bare. To one not used to 
beautifying empty places it would have seemed 
a hopeless task to make it other than it was, but 
Ruth enjoyed the thought of what a change she 


72 


IN THE WAY 


would make. She puzzled her brows at first 
over what should go into it. There were rooms 
of various coloring in the city home. They 
had all been thought out with the exquisite 
taste that belongs to refinement and carried out 
as only those who have a well-filled purse can 
do. Perhaps just as beautiful effects might 
have been reached by a much less expenditure 
of money, but in this case there had been 
money and everything had been good, enduring, 
and beautiful. There was a room in sunset tints 
of rose and mauve and cream, whose carpet of 
soft coffee and cream color was scattered over 
here and there with tiny rose-pink buds and 
leaves. The furniture was curly maple and all 
the dainty accompaniments were pink and 
white. Ruth tried to imagine these things 
occupying the empty desolateness before her, 
but Joseph with his heavy muddy boots did not 
seem to fit into the delicate colorings. It might 
seem too fancy for him. She must choose some- 
thing quieter. David said he was working in 
the woods ; then maybe the woodland colors 
would seem more homelike to him. She did 
not want to startle him with a vivid contrast 
between his present room and the one she meant 
to make ; no, only to soften and sweeten and 
brighten everything and make it a real home 
and not a mere spot in which to stay a few 


IN THK WAY 


73 


hours. She would choose the fern and moss 
carpet with all the wood tints blending and a 
hint of summer sunshine through the green. 
He would feel more at home with the woods 
about him. Then the windows should be draped 
in soft sheer white muslin, fastened back with 
green, and there should be ferns growing in a 
pretty green and brown jar. In that corner 
where the clothespress made a deep nook in the 
wall she would put the low bookcase that turned 
a corner and had the queer little niches for 
favorite books hidden behind the green curtains 
that had faint shadows of ferns in the pattern of 
their silk. She would be careful not to put too 
many fancy things on the bureau, and the pin- 
cushion should be severely plain and useful 
looking, and not the much be-ribboned and be- 
laced affair that belonged to the original room in 
the city. 

She went on planning, seeing everything 
take its place in the room. She even chose, 
with great care, a few choice books and a picture 
or two which she thought would interest him. 
There must not be too many chairs, else he would 
feel the room too full if he was used to this bare- 
ness, and the main object in it all was to give him 
a spot in wdiich he should delight. Would he, 
could he, appreciate it all? The tears almost 
dimmed her eyes at the thought that she might 


74 


IN THE WAY 


fail, and she knelt beside the one wooden chair 
the room contained and asked the Holy Spirit to 
guide her in her selection and furnishing of this 
room. What ! ask the Holy Spirit of God to 
stoop to the selection of a chair or picture, to 
trouble himself with the texture of a carpet or 
the pattern of a curtain ? And yet these things 
have more to do than we think with the influ- 
encing of human lives. People who live in a 
house made beautiful by refinement and taste, 
even though they may not have much money 
with which to carry out their pleasure in such 
taste, are nevertheless, more able to appreciate 
beautiful words and high thoughts and holy liv- 
ing, than those who live where harmony is not 
and where colors and shapes are forever at vari- 
ance. There is an education and an uplifting in 
beautiful things and in quiet, peaceful, restful sur- 
roundings, which does not count for naught, else 
God would not have made the world so beautiful. 

Ruth, as she rose from her knees, began to 
think she would have to pray in every room in 
that house before anything could ever be done 
with it. And then she brushed away a tear that 
would come from the longing for the dear ones 
gone, and a weariness of fear and hope in the 
life that was before her. Would she ever win 
this brother for Christ ? For neither he nor David 
was a Christian, she was now certain. She felt 


IN THE WAY 


75 


alone in a strange and alien land. David was 
growing dear to her. Perhaps this work she was 
undertaking was too great for her, aii unskilled 
girl. She might do more harm than good. Per- 
haps she had been audacious to attempt it. 
Should she leave it all and go back where people 
knew and loved her, and she could work, and not 
feel afraid of defeat ? 

These thoughts would come to her almost 
hourly, when she had met some new obstacle 
in her task. But indeed, there was so much to 
be done during the days that she had little time 
to reflect, and it was only at night in the stillness 
of the ungarnished chamber that she could ask 
herself these questions. It was always her Bible 
then that brought her some answer. Now it 
would be, “ Fear thou not for I am with thee ; 
be not dismayed, for I am thy God : I will 
strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I 
will uphold thee by the right hand of my right- 
eousness.” Again, she would turn to this verse, 
“Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen 
you and ordained you, that ye should go and 
bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should re- 
main ; that whatsoever ye shall ask of the 
Father in my name, he may give it you.” 

“And when He has said that to me, why 
should I not ask him to help me select the right 
carpet for Joseph’s room ? ” she asked herself. 


CHAPTER VI 


T last there came an answer from Sally the 



cook. Yes, she would come gladly and 
would be there soon. Ruth’s heart was set at 
rest about her housekeeping. When a few days 
later Sally arrived, strong, capable, willing, and 
warm-hearted, Ruth relaxed the high strain she 
had been under and began to think that things 
would really settle down into something like 
order pretty soon. The house had been thor- 
oughly cleaned from garret to cellar by the 
woman David had secured for that purpose, and 
a good deal of the drudgery had also been taken 
from her, but she had felt she must do all the 
cooking herself, for the woman seemed not to 
know how to do things in the right way, nor, 
what was worse, to care to learn. She had a 
way of her own which she considered was the 
only way, and Ruth found, like many another, 
that it was easier to do things herself than to 
try to teach another. 

So with Sally’s coming came an opportunity 
to rest a little and look about this new home of 
hers. She knew it indoors pretty well now, but 
had hardly ventured out at all as yet. She began 


IN THE WAY 


77 


to wonder how long it would be before she would 
go to church and know the people and be known 
in the village. Two Sundays had passed, but on 
the first she was so thoroughly exhausted by her 
unusual efforts at housecleaning, that she did not 
feel able to go ; and the second it had been so 
exceedingly stormy that the subject had not been 
mentioned. She did not know yet that it had 
never occurred to either of her brothers as a 
subject for conversation. They seldom went any 
more themselves. She had yet to bear the dis- 
appointment of that discovery. 

A day or two after the arrival of Sally, there 
was some business to be done at the county seat, 
not far away, connected with the farm and the 
sale of some cattle. Heretofore David had been 
the one who had taken these trips, which oc- 
curred once or twice a year. It usually kept 
him three or four days, or sometimes a week. 
This year when the matter was spoken about, 
Joseph declared that he would go. He told his 
brother quite gruffly that he would not stay there 
with those two women, and besides, he thought 
it was his turn to go ; he could sell the sheep 
quite as well as David. Now, David had been 
not a little troubled about leaving his sister 
alone just now, fearing lest Joseph might make 
her uncomfortable by his silent, unpleasant 
ways, so, while he was somewhat anxious about 


IN THE WAY 


78 

the way in which his brother might perform the 
business part of the trip, anxious also as to 
where he might spend his leisure time during 
his absence and what companions he would 
choose, he nevertheless saw no other way but to 
let him go. Indeed, Joseph was so determined, 
that his brother felt sure he would go away 
somewhere if he did not consent. So it was 
settled that Joseph should take the trip. 

Ruth upon hearing that he was to start in 
three days hastened to carry out one of her own 
plans for which she had been waiting her oppor- 
tunity. After consultation with David she dis- 
patched a letter to a firm in her old home, which 
very soon brought her a large package by ex- 
press. Her orders had been explicit, and she 
knew well the man with whom she was dealing, 
so that the contents of the package was exceed- 
ingly satisfactory. Joseph started early the next 
morning, and about an hour afterward there 
arrived from the village, paperers and a painter. 

David seemed as interested and happy over 
the plan as if it were his own. He hovered near 
while Ruth talked with the painter, and helped 
him to mix and match tints, and while the 
package was opened and the paperers went to 
work with scissors and paste on the smooth rolls 
of paper. Ruth had ideas, and was very partic- 
ular. The village painter declared to one of the 


IN THE WAY 


79 


paperhangers that he never did see such a queer 
style in paintin’ in his life, that he s’posed he’d 
got to do the way that girl said, but it would 
look mighty queer, accordin’ to his notion. 
Nevertheless he worked, and so did the others, as 
the strange young woman with the sweet voice 
and determined mouth ordered, and, behold, by 
night there was a change wrought, the like of 
which Sum inert on had never seen before. 

It was in Joseph’s room where the changes 
began. That was the fun of it all, to surprise 
Joseph when he should return. If only the fur- 
niture would come before his return. David and 
Ruth went up to survey after the workmen had 
finished and gone. To David it was a marvel. 
How could paper and paint make so great a' 
change? The ceiling was a sunny cream tint, 
plain and simple, shading at the edges into a 
deeper yellow sunlight, bordered with maiden- 
hair ferns, which by some mysterious skill of 
designers fitted the ferns in the border of the 
paper on the walls. The tint of the walls was 
a soft, hazy green, like the suggestion of an 
orchard bursting into leaf, and a deep dado, about 
which Ruth had been explicit in her orders to 
Browning & Co., was massed over with palms, so 
lifelike as to almost deceive the eye. Ruth in- 
tended when it was all finished to have a real 
palm standing in just the right place by this 


8o 


IN THE WAY 


dado, to increase the distance and make the room 
look as if it stretched away to endless groves of 
palm. But to David, whose imagination had 
not been cultivated, it was sufficiently wonderful 
as it was. The woodwork had a beautiful blend- 
ing of the cream and sunny tints, which the 
reluctant painter had charily acknowledged 
“ Wa’n’t so bad, considerin’, only nobody in earth 
ever see the like before. It was somethin’ new, 
certainly, though fer my part I prefer good, 
solid, substantial color all through.” The floor 
glistened in a border of hard-oil finish, suffi- 
ciently deep for the green mossy rug that was to 
lie over it. 

Said David, as he stood spellbound ; “ This fits 
you, Ruth. You ought to have this room your- 
self and let Joe take another. You can’t ever 
get anything as pretty as this for anybody else.” 

But Ruth laughed in her pleasure, and said 
she had plenty more plans for the other rooms, 
that his was to be even prettier than this. And 
then she wished again the furniture would hasten 
on its way, and she ran away to give some direc- 
tion for breakfast. 

And the furniture did come the very next 
morning. They told each other that it was 
really wonderful for it to arrive from such a long 
distance, considering how long freight was some- 
times on its way. They forgot to take into ac- 


IN THK WAY 


8i 


count that the man who had sent it on was a 
friend, and had spoken a word to another friend 
in a freight office, which had hastened things a 
little. They forgot also that the Holy Spirit 
was guiding the whole affair, and that perhaps 
God wanted Ruth’s plan for Joseph to succeed 
even more than she did. We have a habit of 
thinking our nice little plans are all against 
God’s way, and of asking his help* much as if 
we expected he would naturally refuse or let 
something hinder them. We forget that if we 
are letting him guide our lives in everything, it 
is very often his own gracious Spirit which gives 
us the thought of these plans, and it is God 
who has given us the intellect and skill to plan. 
Even when he lets our plans fail apparently, it 
may be that their very failure has been their suc- 
cess in his eyes. 

David had tried to arrange for the freight to 
be brought from a quiet little station two miles 
up the road, from the village, that the whole 
neighborhood might not know everything that 
was going on, but it had proved impossible. 
For some reason the cars could not be left on 
the right side-track. So through the eager little 
village the hauling wagons toiled back and forth, 
back and forth, an incredible number of times, 
emptying the great freight car. Mrs. Chatter- 
ton could hardly get her work done that day, so 


82 


IN THE WAY 


afraid was she that she would lose count of the 
wagon loads, but when the night came her record 
was correct, she was sure. Not much satisfac- 
tion had she from her watch, however, for every- 
thing was so carefully packed by professional 
packers that its shape and design were hopelessly 
covered. A crowd of boys and older men, and 
even a few curious women, had made errands 
down toward the station, that they might see 
these city things nearer, and some papers were 
picked a little just to see the woodwork on a 
bedstead or the upholstery on a chair. There 
were great stories afloat, and much wonder. But 
there was nothing to go on but hearsay and sur- 
mise. David was always “ close-mouthed,” the 
neighbors said, and they did not like to ask him 
questions, and Joseph had gone to the fair to sell 
sheep. If Joseph had been home they felt sure 
they might have found out something. One old 
man with a ragged, discolored beard, where a 
river of tobacco juice ever and anon flowed down, 
even said he shouldn’t wonder if there was trouble 
up there with that highflier of a city girl, or Joe 
never would have gone ; he never went before, 
and this was reported as true by the postmaster 
to three friends of his as he sorted over the mail 
to go east. 

But at the farmhouse there was eagerness and 
pleasant hard work. David got his own neces- 


IN THE WAY 


83 

sary work out of the way as soon as possible 
that he might help. As the loads came in they 
were deposited here and there, out of the way, in 
rooms that were not to be used immediately, and 
Ruth selected the things she wanted for Joseph’s 
room at once. David opened boxes and helped 
to uncover the swathed furniture, and carried up 
and arranged. He did not wish to trust the men 
with this more than he could help. Some 
things he found pretty heavy, however, and was 
obliged to have help, so he kept John Haskins. 

Perhaps that was a providence too, for John 
Haskins was brother to Ellen Amelia, she who 
had admired the hat of the city lady at the sta- 
tion the day she arrived, and Ellen Amelia’s 
lieart was delighted, and her life was brightened 
greatly by the wonderful account of velvet car- 
pets and downy chairs, which her brother John 
gave at the supper table. It may be that John’s 
vocabulary was hardly suited to convey exactly 
correct impressions of all he had seen, and it 
may be that where he could not remember he 
drew somewhat on his imagination, but on the 
whole the account was a good one and eagerly 
listened to by the entire Haskins family, includ- 
ing the New York grandmother, who was pleased 
to be able to explain the uses of some articles 
described, though she was hardly familiar with 
them in her own home. But city people have 


84 


IN THE WAY 


opportunities, which gives them an advantage 
sometimes, and it pleased her to be able to air 
her little knowledge. As for Ellen Amelia, her 
“ Fireside Companion ” had just come, and she 
had finished reading “ The Disguised Duke ; or, 
From Poorhouse to Palace,” by the fading light, 
when her mother called to her for the fifth time 
that the table must be set that minute. And 
now her dreams were being carried on into real- 
ities by John’s account. It did her good to 
think that there were such beautiful things in 
the world, and that they had come as near her as 
to be in Summerton. Thenceforward it should 
be her great desire to get into that house and 
see all those beautiful things. Perchance there 
might be something there which she could carry 
out in cheaper form at home. For Ellen Amelia 
was not all dreams. She was ambitious, and in 
her way she was not unskillful, but the poor 
child had few opportunities of any kind. 

Meanwhile at the farmhouse things were grow- 
ing interesting. Out of the chaos of the morn- 
ing was evolved a room so beautiful that David 
as he went and came, bringing this and that at 
his sister’s direction, fairly held his breath. The 
old cord bed was replaced by one of white and 
brass, and from this and that chest and bureau 
and packing box, Ruth brought linen and 
blankets and white drapery and made the bed. 


IN THE WAY 


85 

all white and lovely. The corner bookcase was 
there with a few books and a statuette and vase. 
Ruth unpacked in a reckless way. She was 
determined to have that room done before Joseph 
came, no matter how much she broke all laws 
laid down for movers and unpackers. She pulled 
a box of books all to pieces to find one which 
she knew was there and which she wanted 
Joseph to read sometime. She would have a 
certain picture for his room. She would have 
driven a less interested helper than David dis- 
tracted with her searches after certain little 
things, which in the natural order of things 
might have been waited for till they turned up. 
Ruth wanted that room complete, and David 
was none the less an eager boy at play than she 
was a girl. There was a large, soft, luxurious 
couch covered with green plush, which looked 
like a mossy bank, and this accompanied by 
its many soft silk pillows was established near 
a window, and by its side a small flat-topped 
desk on which was a reading lamp with white- 
lined green shade. The palm was there, for 
Ruth had had some of the choice plants from 
the greenhouse sent on, and all the windows 
were draped in soft white swiss. 

David, while he put up the little brass rods for 
the curtains and sawed and fixed a heavier pole 
in front of the closet door to hang a heavy dark 


86 


IN THE WAY 


green portiere where the door had been missing 
for many a year — so long that the reason for its 
disappearance had been entirely forgotten — won- 
dered in his heart if he would have been a dif- 
ferent being if he had been surrounded by such 
things sooner; wondered what Joseph would 
think, whether he would be offended or pleased ; 
resolved to give him a lesson if he were not 
pleased ; and wondered again what poor, econom- 
ical Aunt Nancy would have said to all this 
luxury in the old farmhouse. He remembered 
the dazzling plush album in the parlor and 
smiled to think how tawdry and common it 
seemed to him now, though in former days he 
had looked upon it as an awesome treasure. 

They stood back at last and looked at the 
finished room. Everything was in its place, 
even to the articles of toilet. 

“It is beautiful, beautiful ! ” said David. It 
stirred something in him as he gazed at it com- 
pleted that he did not understand. It made him 
long for higher, nobler things. It opened pos- 
sibilities that he had not dreamed of. It made 
life seem rich and sweet, and, did it speak to him 
of heaven and his mother? Was not heaven 
something like this ? It came nearer to his 
ideal than anything he had ever seen before. 
Perhaps it might stir Joseph with the same 
thought and make him want to be better, to 


IN THE WAY 


87 


please that mother who was up there, some- 
where, among palms and songs. He closed the 
door softly as they went out as if they were 
stepping from some sacred place. As he lay 
awake that night in his own bare room he liked 
to think of that lovely spot and know it was 
near. It made heaven seem a fair reality and 
even a possibility for him. “ And now what 
next ? ” he said the next morning with almost 
as eager a look on his face as Ruth wore. They 
had each been that morning for a silent peep at 
Joseph’s room, just to see it by the daylight, 
finished, but neither guessed it of the other. 
Ruth had knelt a minute there and breathed a 
prayer that the Spirit of Jesus might hover over 
that room and influence the life of the occupant, 
and David’s wish for his brother, unuttered, had 
been perhaps no less a prayer for him. 

“ What next ? ” said Ruth gayly. She was 
growing happy. David and she were comrades, 
and they had accomplished one purpose together ; 
now they were ready for more. It was beauti- 
ful work, albeit there was a sad side to it which 
her brother had not thought of yet. She was 
unpacking and putting about the things which 
she had laid away in sadness and tears. Every- 
thing was full of associations of the dear ones 
who were gone, for whom and by whom and 
with whom they had been purchased. It was 


88 


IN THE WAY 


hard to keep back the tears sometimes and yet 
she felt that this was the very work those dear 
ones would have liked the precious things to be 
put to, so she went bravely and even gladly on 
with her work. There might be tears for the 
quiet of her own room, but she must have only 
smiles here, for the old house had been gloomy 
long enough, and she was come that she might 
help to win home to heaven and Jesus the two 
brothers, so long strangers to her. 

“ We will work at the parlor I think, and in 
there,” pointing to the large room adjoining the 
kitchen, which had been so long a dusty, unused 
bedroom. “ If yoii don’t mind I want to make 
a lovely dining room out of that, with a library 
in the front room beyond. The little room 
adjoining the parlor would make a nice retreat 
for my piano and a couch for you to lie on and 
listen to the music sometimes, if you are willing 
to cut the doorway a little wider so that it will 
take in the fretwork archway that used to be 
between the parlors at home. It is in the hall- 
way at home. This is the only place I can 
think of where it would fit prettily.” 

David assented eagerly. He would cut any 
number of doorways, if she wanted them, though 
it did puzzle him a little to know what fret- 
work was. However he held his peace, for he 
had confidence in the present architect. 


IN THE WAY 


89 


“ I want to keep all signs of work from the 
halls and kitchen and the places where Joseph 
usually goes, so that his room will be a complete 
surprise. Shall we leave our own rooms till the 
last ? Then we can work at them at our 
leisure ? ” 

David agreed and they went to work. The 
painters and paperers were kept close within 
certain rooms. The transformation in the old 
house went on, and so did the village tongues. 

Mrs. Chatterton ran in to see old Mrs. Haskins 
and took her knitting. Ellen Amelia hovered 
about with her paper in her hand and her hair 
in curl papers. She was going to a church 
supper that night. 

“ They say,” said Mrs. Chatterton, as she 
picked up some stitches she had dropped, “ that 
there’s great doings goin’ on over to Benedicts’. 
I guess that girl’s a piece. That aunt and uncle 
’t adopted her must have been awful rich. I 
guess you’d be surprised if you knew how many 
loads of furniture I counted at my window 
yesterday, and ’t ain’t all there yet, I heard.” 

“ Well, I guess she’s used to havin’ things 
mighty stylish,” responded the New York grand- 
mother. “ John, he says she has pictures painted 
right onto the walls, of trees and things, and 
she’s fixed something in the room, he don’t know 
what, that made the sunshine streak right in on 


90 


IN THE WAY 


anyi;hing she wanted it to shine on, even though 
’twas a dark day. I s’pose it’s one o’ them new 
kind of Eddysun things you read about. They 
do most anything now.” 

“ You don’t say ! ” said Mrs. Chatterton, paus- 
ing to take in this great wonder and pack it 
away for further transportation.. “ One o’ them 
Edsun machines fer makin’ sunshine ! Well, I 
ain’t sure but I’d like to have one. Well, she’s 
got some funny idees about paint. My son’s 
wife’s brother did the paintin’, and he tried fer 
all he was worth to ’dvise her ’bout things, but 
she would have her own way, an’ a mighty funny 
one it was too. I wonder what Joseph’ 11 say 
’bout it all when he comes back. Strange he 
went off so sudden, ain’t it ? I wonder if he 
knows.” 

And that night Joseph came back. 


CHAPTER VII 


J OSEPH was cross. He had not enjoyed his 
trip so much as he had expected. Somehow 
everything with which he had come in contact 
had made him discontented, and as he came in 
sight of the farmhouse he scowled at it and hated 
it. Perhaps he added a little hate with the 
thought that it contained the sister who had 
come in to interrupt the quiet and have her own 
way. He did not want to go in but neither did 
he wish to go anywhere else, and besides, he 
must make report to his brother at once of the 
result of his trip. 

David met him as he came around to the back 
door and gave him a hearty welcome. Indeed 
he could hardly keep the light of the secret up- 
stairs from shining in his face. He had a fear 
lest his brother should read the story of the new 
room in his eyes before he went in. He got 
Joseph’s report in a few words and then turned 
away. He wanted his brother to go upstairs at 
once, as he was sure he would ; so he went to 
attend to some small unnecessary matter among 
the milk pans, that he might not seem to be 
watching him. 


91 


92 


IN THE WAY 


Joseph went upstairs. It was growing dusky 
outside, and Ruth had taken advantage of the 
moment that her brothers had been talking to- 
gether, to slip upstairs and light the lamp which 
shed its soft green glow over the new room and 
even shimmered unusually under the crack of 
the door. Joseph paused in wonder at it, and 
looked up and down the hall to see if in his pre- 
occupation he had made a mistake and was 
standing in front of the wrong door. Then he 
threw the door open and gazed, first in wonder, 
then in dismay, and then in anger. What was 
all this ? the door of a palace open before him ? 
He made one step across the soft rug and looked 
down and then brushed his eyes to see if some 
cobweb were across them which hindered the 
vision. It was beautiful, it was wonderful, but 
it did not belong to him ; and in his present 
mood he desired to be alone in his own room. 
Where then was that old retreat ? Had it been 
spirited away ? Oh ! with a flash he understood 
it all now. During his absence my lady Ruth 
had pitched upon his poor room as the only one 
she wished to occupy, and had arranged it with 
her own things to suit herself. Their house was 
not good enough for her. She had taken his 
room without his leave. She might at least have 
told him before he left and given him some 
notice of where his bed had been moved. He 


IN THE WAY 


93 


was intruding upon her room it seemed, when 
he had but thought to go to his own. Well, he 
should not trouble them further to tell him 
where his things were, and he shut the yellow 
and cream door with a slam and thundered down 
the stairs and out at the kitchen door, shutting 
it also with a heavy jar. If they chose to thus 
ignore his rights he would show them he could 
get along without their help. What he meant 
to do he was not sure yet, except that he would 
not sleep in that house that night. And he 
wished them thoroughly to understand that he 
was angry beyond recall. He went with long 
strides down the walk and out the gate to the 
road, but he turned his face away from the vil- 
lage for once. 

David, standing behind the shed door, watched 
him with deep dismay. What had happened? 
Was Joseph displeased at the change in his 
room ? Had they then failed after all ? Notice 
that he classed himself with his sister in the 
enterprise. He had gone over completely to her 
leadership. He turned and went in the house. 
Ruth stood in the kitchen by the pleasant, at- 
tractive tea table, with a look of mingled fear 
and dismay. Fortunately Sally was upstairs 
putting on a clean apron preparatory to waiting 
upon the table, for though they had not yet es- 
tablished the dining room, things were beginning 


94 


IN THE WAY 


to be served in some sort of order, such as she 
was used to in the city. 

“ What is the matter, David ? What has hap- 
pened ? Doesn’t he like it ? ” 

There were tears in her eyes and David felt at 
that moment as if he would like to go after his 
younger brother and chastise him severely. He 
had no business to be such a bear. 

Ruth went on : I had just lighted his lamp 
and slipped over to my own room as he came up 
the stairs and opened his door. He stood still a 
minute and then he shut the door very hard and 
went downstairs. I came right down after him, 
but he isn’t anywhere around.” 

David tried to comfort her as best he could. 
He did not quite understand what was the 
matter with Joseph, for he had been sure he 
would be pleased. But yet, on general principles 
Joseph was often displeased. He seemed to be 
always out of harmony with himself and with 
everything about him. 

But Ruth was not easily consoled. She ate 
little .supper that night, though David did his 
best to keep up a show of eating himself and to 
talk cheerfully. Joseph did not come back. 
Ruth went soon to her room and wept. By and 
by she slipped upon her knees and tried to pray, 
but it seemed as though she had set her heart so 
upon the success of this her plan, and had been 


IN THE WAY 


95 


SO sure she was being guided by a higher Power 
than her own, that she could not rally from the 
shock of finding that it had failed. She never 
doubted that it had failed, and that Joseph was 
exceedingly angry that they had meddled with 
his room, and had gone off, perhaps never to 
return. She had little creeping thoughts of 
doubt as to whether her prayers had not all been 
in vain, though she put them aside and would 
not give place to them. But it did seem strange 
that she should have been living with such a 
firm belief in that promise, “ Whatsoever ye 
shall ask in my name I will do it,” and now had 
come this failure. Then she remembered the 
first part of that verse again, and it sbecame to 
her like a rebuke for doubting her Lord. “Ye 
have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and 
ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth 
fruit, and that your fruit should remain.” 
Surely she had forgotten. She had not taken 
up this work for God, but he had led her to it, 
had put her into it, and ordained that it should 
be as he wanted it. Nothing could really fail 
of what he had planned, and he had promised 
that it should bring forth fruit, the fruit he 
wanted, and that it should be fruit that should 
remain ; not just the kind that blossomed and 
formed and then fell off with the first wind or 
storm or blight that came along. He was able 


IN THE WAY 


96 

to make good come out of even this failure, dis- 
appointment though it was for her. She dried 
her eyes at last and went to bed, first looking out 
of her window in the vain hope that she might 
see something moving down the road to the 
gate. Oh, if her brother would but return, she 
would replace his old room just as it was, if he 
wanted it so ; she would beg his pardon for hav- 
ing displeased him. Then she turned away from 
the window and tried to hum 

He holds the key of all unknown, 

And I am glad ; 

If other hands should hold the key, 

Or if he trusted it to me, 

I might be sad. 

She sighed as she thought of what to-morrow 
might bring of certainty about Joseph, and then 
the hymn answered her : 

What if to-morrow’s cares were here 
Without its rest ? 

I’d rather he unlocked the day, 

And, as the hours swing open, say, 

“ My will is best.” 

Then she laid her soul down to rest saying : 

Enough ; this covers all my wants 
And so I rest ; 

For what I cannot, he can see. 

And in his care I safe shall be. 

Forever blest. 


IN THE WAY 


97 


Out there, not many feet away from her 
window, over in the great hay barn, lay the 
young ingrate who had so torn the peace of mind 
of his family. He had stolen softly back after 
walking about two miles, for the exertion of his 
day’s trip made him feel suddenly weary, now 
that the first heat of anger had worn away. He 
would not go back into the house, neither would 
he go to the village. He wanted to lie down 
and rest. The sweet hay in the great barn was 
easy of access by a little side door of which he 
carried the key, and so, while his brother and 
sister were worrying about him, he was sleeping 
heavily from sheer weariness. When the morn- 
ing broke he rubbed his eyes and wondered 
where he was ; and then it all came back to him, 
but his own stubbornness came as well. He 
was hungry but he would not go in and eat. It 
was early. He found some old clothes which 
were almost unused, a coat and a pair of overalls 
which he had kept in the front of the barn for 
occasional service, and with these he arranged a 
working suit ; and taking a wash and a drink at 
the pump and his tools from their places, he went 
breakfastless to the wood lot to work. It did his 
angry soul good to have this revenge of feeling 
that they had driven him from home and to his 
work without food. Of course this could not go 
on forever, but while he worked he could think 


98 


IN THE WAY 


and decide what should be done. He felt pretty 
certain that he would go away somewhere, and 
that at once ; but he wanted to think his plans 
over a little more before he put them into execu- 
tion. And so he chopped angrily away at the 
trunk of an old tree and thought and grew hun- 
grier and more stubborn with each hour, and 
the autumn sun rose high and clear, but it 
brought no cheer to him. It seemed to him 
now that all the universe was against him and 
was exulting in the fact that it was so. 

Ruth did not know what to do with herself. 
To take up the work of finishing the house 
where they had left it the day before was impos- 
sible. Her heart was no longer in it. She 
would much rather have packed up all her 
things and sent them back to the storage house, 
replacing the old plain furniture now. All 
the plans seemed wrong. David at her earnest 
request had started out immediately after break- 
fast to see if he could find a trace of Joseph. 
Ruth was restless. She wished she were a man 
and familiar with her surroundings that she 
might go also. She tried to work at this and 
that, but her restless spirit would not be put 
down. She went from one window to another, 
and the tears were very near the surface. If she 
could but go out and search and in some way 
make amends for what she had done. She felt 


IN THE WAY 


99 


certain that she would break down and cry out- 
right if the morning went on much longer and 
David did not come with word. She would go out 
and see if she could not find him. Suddenly the 
remembrance of her bicycle came to mind. It 
had not yet been unpacked, and was at that mo- 
ment in its crate in the front room, which was to 
be a library, behind all sorts of boxes and chairs 
and tables. Could she get it out and uncrate it ? 
She knew enough about the machine to put it 
together, when once she had it out, she was cer- 
tain. At least she would try, for it would give 
her something to do with a purpose. This stand- 
ing about and waiting was intolerable. Her 
vivid imagination through the night had con- 
jured up all sorts of things that Joseph might 
have done, and she blamed her own sweet ser- 
vices for him for it all. 

She went at once to the front room, armed 
with hatchet and hammer and screw-driver. It 
proved a work of time and strength to get the 
crate out of the tangle of furniture, and when 
at last this was accomplished she found the task 
of uncrating no easy one. But at last the 
machine was out and put together, and oiling it 
hastily she ran upstairs to put on her bicycle 
suit. With a few hasty directions to Sally, who 
had learned not to be surprised at almost any- 
thing her young mistress undertook, she started 


lOO 


IN THE WAY 


on her way, knowing no way in the whole place 
and having no fixed idea except to go some- 
where and to find her brother Joseph. It was a 
lovely, clear, cool morning and the roads were 
perfect for a ride, but she took no thought of 
that. She rode steadily and rapidly, looking 
about with eyes which searched but saw not 
much of what she looked upon. Indeed, so 
hurried and earnest was she that she did not 
take her usual care to look about her and take 
her bearings that she might return without any 
trouble. She only thought about her errand. 
Down the road toward the village she started 
and rode as far as the Chatterton house, but then 
she reflected that David had probably gone on to 
the village to search and she would better go 
elsewhere. A long stretch of smooth, much- 
traveled road led off to the right just beyond 
the Chatterton place, so without much thought 
she turned upon it and flew on. 

“For the land sake ! ” ejaculate Mrs. Chatter- 
ton, glancing up from her darning at the front 
sitting-room window, and dropping her lapful 
of stockings she hastened to the kitchen win- 
dows which looked on the side road to get a 
further view. Eliza Barnes, who was helping 
Mrs. Chatterton for a few days while she got the 
apple butter and mince-meat for the winter out 
of the way, dropped her dishcloth and went to 


IN THE WAY 


lOI 


the other window to see what it was that so 
interested Mrs. Chatterton. 

“My land!” said she, her mouth open, her 
hands on her hips. “ A girl on a bicycle ! Don’t 
she go it though? Who can she be?” Eliza 
was not favored by living on the direct road 
to the village and therefore did not know who 
the young woman was. 

“ I ain’t sure, but I rather suspect it’s that new 
Benedic’ girl. I told ’em I thought they’d find 
she was a highflier. The idea 1 It isn’t con- 
sidered decent ; but I s’pose them city folks do 
anything they please. She hasn’t got no kind 
of a ma now to tend to her and you can’t ex- 
pect two boys to hold her in ; besides, I heard 
Joseph was away from home and I see David a 
driving like mad by here an hour and more ago. 
She’s just waited till they got off, that’s what 
she’s done. Somebody ought to tell David ; 
such disgraceful goin’s on 1 What would their 
poor father and mother say if they could rise up 
in their graves and know it all ? It’s a mercy 
they can’t, I declare.” 

“ Wal 1 she don’t look any diffrunt from other 
folks as I see,” said Eliza with admiring eyes as 
she watched the lithe, graceful figure disappear 
up the road. “I’ve heard say they dress just 
awful for riding, but her dress looks all nice and 
proper and she sets up as straight as a needle. 


102 


IN THE WAY 


I mus’ say I think it would be fun,” and Eliza 
went back to the greasy kettle she was washing 
with a sigh of envy. Eliza was always on the 
lookout for fun, and precious little of it ever 
came in her way. 

“ H’m ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Chatterton severely, 
looking over her glasses at the preserving kettle 
on the stove. “ It’s lucky for you you’ve got a 
mother then. Look out that apple butter don’t 
burn. It seems to me you’ve got a pretty much 
of a fire on,” and she shut the door and went 
back to her darning. 

Meanwhile, all unconscious of the impression 
her first appearance was making upon the vil- 
lagers, Ruth rode on. She was almost in fever- 
ish haste to get somewhere and get home again. 
She seemed to feel that she was riding straight 
to Joseph, and who shall say she was not being 
guided ? On and on she went and coming to a 
turn to the right and still another she whirled 
around them hardly knowing that she did so. 
She passed a handsome farmhouse after this 
second turn, where some men were working near 
the fence, and one called out to her something 
she could not hear. But the tone had been un- 
mistakable and she felt sure that the words were 
such as she would not wish to hear. She was 
frightened ; her cheeks burned ; and her heart 
beat so fast she could scarcely breathe. For the 


IN THE WAY 103 

first time since she started it occurred to her 
that perhaps it was not safe to ride alone in the 
country, that bicycles might not be so common 
here as at her former home. She had been so 
accustomed to riding when and where she 
pleased that it had not even occurred to her to 
ask David whether girls rode here or not, and if 
it had, the question would have had very little 
weight with her, her wheel had become so much 
a part of her by constant use. Now to her con- 
fusion, her cheeks flamed crimson. Her nerves 
were in a quiver before she started and her hard, 
strained ride with the one purpose in view had 
not served to calm them. She did not wish to 
hasten her speed or to take notice of the pres- 
ence of the men in the least, but they, thinking 
perhaps to have a little fun, added to her 
nervousness by sending with a low-spoken word 
a great fierce-looking dog after her. He came 
with long, low bounds like some wild animal 
after its prey and burst upon her with a por- 
tentous growl farther down the road from be- 
hind a hedge. She had to give a quick turn 
here to avoid running into him and her fright- 
ened heart beat wildly. She was terribly afraid 
of dogs. 

She could scarcely manage her wheel. It 
was just at the brow of a hill and she put on 
all speed and fairly shot down that hill, the 


104 IN THE WAY 

sound of the dog’s deep growl seeming to follow 
her even after that had become impossible by 
the distance between them. But now she kept 
on faster and faster, feeling certain that she 
was pursued. She heard the sound of the ring- 
ing of an axe in a wood she had to pass, but that 
only added to her fear. Here was a new danger 
to be encountered. She would put on all .speed 
possible and drive past, and it might be the user 
of the axe would not perceive her till she was 
beyond reach ; but just as she came to the center 
of the very space whence had come the sound 
of the axe something happened. What it was 
she never quite knew. A great boulder was in 
the road. The wheel struck it. The handle 
bars which she herself had fastened on, turned 
in her hand at this sudden wrench, and the 
saddle which she had supposed securely fastened, 
turned under her. In vain she threw all her 
weight upon the pedals. It was too late. She 
had attained a fearful speed. She suddenly felt 
herself helpless. She seemed blind with fright 
and could give but a little gasping cry for help, 
as she was flung violently in the dust of the 
road. 

It was very strange. She had never fallen be- 
fore in all her riding, except a little tumble or 
two when she was learning. And now to fall in 
disgrace before some country loafers who only 


IN THE WAY 


105 

wanted to laugh and jeer at her at best — to fall 
when there was real peril, when she was far 
from home and — oh, that dog ! Her mind seemed 
in a whirl. Then she lay there as if stunned in 
the dust of the road, her eyes shut. She could 
faintly hear footsteps crackling over dried twigs 
and some one jumping the fence by the road. She 
knew that he was coming and perhaps that terri- 
ble dog was almost upon her. Perhaps his hot 
breath would burn her already hot cheek, and 
that awful growl would freeze her very blood 
she was sure, if she should hear it in her ear. 
She could not help herself now. She would not 
open her eyes, let come what might. She re- 
membered that God was guiding her and she 
sent up a cry to him for help in her dire need. 
Then she felt a touch, a gentle, almost reverent 
touch, upon her forehead. She opened her eyes 
and looked up. It was her brother Joseph. 

Now Joseph had worked hard that morning. 
He had perhaps accomplished more in a given 
time than he had ever done in the whole of his 
life before. It is marvelous how well and rap- 
idly one can work when he feels that he is act- 
ing the part of a martyr. He was considering 
himself very ill-used indeed. Self-pity, when it is 
left to work, getteth to itself thousands more 
like unto itself, and Joseph had been having a 
real nice gloomy time all alone out tliere in the 


io6 


IN THE WAY 


wood lot. He was cutting a tree quite near to 
the road. Not a soul had passed since his work 
began, to interrupt his meditations. He was 
growing very hungry — no supper and no break- 
fast. He straightened up and felt his back. It 
was stiff and ached. Something must be done, 
for he did not feel that he was willing to longer 
undergo this state of discomfort. He was cer- 
tainly not called upon to do so under the circum- 
stances. He would go away at once, somewhere 
— anywhere. Where? He paused and leaned 
on his axe, looking up the road. 

Then had come that flying vision : wheels, a 
dark blue dress, soft hair, the waving of a great 
dog’s yellow tail as he wheeled and gave up pur- 
suit, and then the almost immediate catastrophe 
right before him. He did not know who or 
scarcely what it was, but he went to the rescue. 


CHAPTER VIII 


O H, Joseph ! ” said Ruth, her pale face 
lighting up. “ I have found you. 
You’ll forgive me, won’t you? It was all my 
fault ; David only helped. You won’t be angry 
any more. I really thought it would please you 
to have your room fixed in that way. We wanted 
to surprise you ; that was why we didn’t ask you 
first ; but I see now it was very wrong of us, for 
of course you were attached to the old room as 
it was. Say you’ll forgive me, do ! I wanted so 
to have you love me ! ” She was lying in the 
dry grass at the side of the road, whither her 
brother had swiftly and tenderly borne her. She 
was dimly conscious of intense agony in her 
ankle, but she could think of nothing until she 
had Joseph’s full forgiveness. 

There were real tears in her eyes now. Joseph 
stood staring down at her in amazement, hardly 
able to take in the meaning of her words. That 
his sister should suddenly drop down before the 
wood lot in this unexpected manner was aston- 
ishing enough, but that after such a ride and 
such a fall she should be able to speak was in- 
credible. Her tears melted him at once. He 

107 


io8 


IN THE WAY 


was not used to women’s tears. His heart went 
out to her. Her peril had been so great that it 
overshadowed everything else, and he did not 
yet know how badly she was hurt. She made 
no attempt to rise, but only pleaded with him 
about that room. 

“ Bother the room ! ” he said gruffly, trying 
vainly to get the huskiness out of his voice. 
“There ain’t anything to forgive. You may 
have all the rooms in the house, if you want 
them, and welcome. Are you hurt?” and he 
stooped anxiously to lift her again. 

But she looked eagerly up at him. 

“ Have all the rooms ! What do you mean, 
Joseph? Was that what you thought? That I 
had taken your room for myself without asking 
you ? Was that it ? Tell me ! Oh, you poor 
boy! I don’t wonder you were angry. But 
Joseph, listen. I never dreamed of such a thing. 
We were fixing the room up for you. Did you 
think I would want to take your room away? 
But I don’t blame you ; you and I are not ac- 
quainted yet. I only wanted to make it just as 
pretty and pleasant as I could for you, and I had 
the things and didn’t know what else to do with 
them, and David said they might as well come 
on and be used ; but I’ll take them all out and fix 
it back the way it was if you prefer it that way. 
It won’t take long, and I’m so sorry.” 


IN THE WAY 109 

Her nerves had been completely shaken by 
her excitement and fall. Indeed the poor child 
had been working beyond her strength for two 
weeks, in her eagerness to get things done just 
right, and there had been no one to restrain her. 
As she talked she could not keep the tears from 
rolling down her cheeks, she who never cried 
before people. She remembered it afterward, 
and rebuked herself for her weakness. 

Joseph straightened up and looked at her. 

“You fixed that room for me?” he said, such 
utter amazement in his voice that his sister al- 
most laughed afterward in joy to think of it. 
She had the pleasure of her surprise after all in 
thinking of the expression on his face then. 

“ You never fixed that all up for me,” he said 
stupidly, looking down at her as if she must be 
a little out of her head. “ Why I’m just a — just 
a Nobody ever does things for me.” 

“Yes, they do, Joseph ! David and I do,” she 
laughed, her tears shining like a mist before the 
sun, and she caught one of her brother’s great 
rough, red hands and kissed it. 

He felt a queer kind of a sensation in his own 
eyes then, and to cover it he stooped once more 
and said : 

“We must get you home. Where are you 
hurt?” She took his help then and tried to 
rise, but now the terrific pain in her ankle as- 


I lO 


IN THE WAY 


serted itself, and she turned quite white and 
sank back again. “Where — what is it?” ques- 
tioned Joseph anxiously. 

“ Oh, it’s my ankle, and I suppose it must be 
a sprain. I have always thought it was so silly 
for people to get their ankles sprained, and now 
I’ve done it. Oh, it hurts dreadfully, and we’re 
a long way from home, aren’t we?” 

“ Well, not so far but what I could carry you, 
I guess, only I’m afraid it ’ll be hard on you ; and 
what’ll we do with this concern ? ” pointing to 
the down-fallen bicycle. “It ain’t very safe to 
leave it here if you ever care to see it again. I 
guess I’d better leave you long enough to borrow 
a wagon.” 

“ Oh, don’t ! ” said Ruth, rising again with sud- 
den energy, which sent the pain shooting through 
her ankle. “I’m afraid that awful dog would 
come again,” and she shuddered at the thought. 
“ If you think you could screw those handle bars 
on tight, perhaps I could get on and manage 
with your help to ride it home. I suppose it 
was very reckless of me to start out when I had 
screwed things up myself. I never put it to- 
gether before.” 

Joseph stooped and raised the fallen machine. 
It was almost as mysterious a thing to have 
to do with as a young woman. He had never 
seen one save at a distance before. There was 


IN THE WAY 


III 


but one in the village, and that was owned by 
a youth who spent his time away from home, at 
college, almost entirely. He was not a young 
man of Joseph’s immediate social circle either. 

With Ruth’s directions he was able to make 
all the repairs necessary, and finally, with much 
care and not a little pain, Ruth was placed on 
the saddle, her lame foot held in as comfortable 
a position as possible, while with her brother’s 
help and her one well foot she was able slowly 
to propel the machine. It was a slow and pain- 
ful ride. They took down the bars of the wood- 
lot fence, and went by a little, winding, unused 
road, which led among the trees, but straight 
across lots to their home. Ruth was at least 
shielded from the eyes of the village gossips, and 
thus her downfall and untriumphal return were 
not proclaimed from the village housetops. Mrs. 
Chatterton missed a moral for her sermon on 
bicycles, and Eliza Barnes watched in vain for 
the spinning figure down the road. 

David was just driving into the gateway as 
they reached the barnyard entrance, and he 
could scarcely believe his eyes to see the prodi- 
gal brother steering the despised sister on a ma- 
chine, which to David’s eyes was a very strange 
sight indeed. 

“You turn right around and go for the doc- 
tor,” called Joseph peremptorily, as soon as he 


II2 


IN THE WAY 


was within hailing distance. “She’s had a fall 
and hurt her ankle. No ; I’ll carry her up,” as 
David jumped from the wagon in dismay and ran 
to help. “ I’ve brought her this far and I guess 
I can do the rest. You go quick.” 

The command was given so decidedly that 
David turned meekly and obeyed. He hurried 
the horse as much as possible, but he turned his 
head once for the astonishing sight of Joseph 
with Ruth gathered tenderly in his arms strid- 
ing across the dooryard. Ruth waved her hand 
to him and tried to smile as she called, “ It’s all 
right, he just didn’t understand ” ; but the pain 
was so bad she had to close her eyes and keep 
still. 

A mother could not have been more tender 
than those two brothers were during the days that 
followed. The doctor came and fixed up the 
poor swollen ankle, encouraging them by saying 
it might not be so bad as it looked. Then 
they hovered near her and could not do enough 
for her, and even neglected their work to stay 
with her. It would seem as if they were just 
awakened to the fact that there was something 
else than work in the world worth living for ; 
for love, the love of a brother for a sister, was 
growing in their hearts that had been empty so 
long. 

Early that evening Joseph went to the vil- 


IN THE WAY 


lage on an errand. The doctor had called again 
and recommended some lotion for bathing the 
hurt ankle, and Joseph offered to go for it. Ever 
since morning he had seemed to take David’s 
place in ordering about things and in doing all 
he could to make his sister comfortable. He had 
a feeling as if he had been the cause of her suffer- 
ing and he must take the responsibility of car- 
ing for her. David was quite astonished at him, 
and sat down now beside Ruth’s couch to talk 
things over with her. The large, easy, leather- 
covered library sofa had been hastily unpacked 
by David and pushed into the kitchen for the 
benefit of the invalid, because she utterly re- 
fused to be sent off upstairs away from every- 
thing. She was quite happy in spite of her 
hurt. She was rather glad than not that she had 
fallen, now that there was such a change in 
Joseph. It was worth a ride and a fall any day 
to gain a brother like her younger one, for when 
Joseph’s heart was once touched there was a 
great well of good there, and he bestowed freely 
where he chose to do so. 

While they talked and arranged some little 
matters, going on with their plans where they 
had been left the day before, Joseph went with 
long, free steps to the village. It was a very 
different walk from the one he had taken the 
night before. Indeed it never occurred to him 

H 


IN THE WAY 


II4 

to mark the contrast between himself to-night 
and twenty-four hours before. His mind was 
busy over his sister, who, as far as he was con- 
cerned, might have just come into his range of 
vision. Heretofore she had been an imaginary 
being whom he hated, because he fancied she 
was in his way and perhaps disliked him. There 
in the dark on this lonely country road he re- 
membered her words, looks, tones, and her tears. 
These were things he would not have dared even 
think about in the daylight or in the presence of 
others, for he was very much afraid of any sen- 
timent. Indeed the least tendency in that direc- 
tion was something so new to him that he 
scarcely believed in it at all. He decided that 
he had been a fool the night before and meta- 
phorically kicked himself all the way to town 
for his bearishness and boorishness about that 
room. It suddenly occurred to him that though 
he had been about the house nearly all day, he 
had not yet revisited his room, nor seen it 
enough to tell what it was like. He tried to re- 
call what he had seen at his first glimpse, but 
the veil of anger was between and he could tell 
nothing, except that there had been a green 
glow and a look like a glimpse of paradise to 
it. An eager desire to see it at once took pos- 
session of him and he hastened his steps. His 
errand at the drug store completed, he went to 


IN THE WAY 


II5 

the post office to see if there was any mail. He 
and David had not been used to getting letters 
nor going often to the office, but since their 
sister had arrived there had been something for 
the Benedicts almost every mail. They were 
growing accustomed to going to the post office 
every day as a matter of course. 

The grocery, in the front of which the post 
office was located, was ill lighted by smoky kero- 
sene lamps. At the back end, beyond the counter 
and a little hidden by the dusty post boxes and 
the little stamp and letter window, there was a 
sprawling box stove and around it at all seasons 
of the year, no matter whether there was a fire 
or not, was usually gathered at this hour of the 
evening a number of loafers, young and old, 
spitting, smoking, and talking, with loud guffaws*^ 
of laughter interspersed. They were all there to- 
night. Joseph recognized one or two voices, 
and he drew his brows in a heavy frown. Ruth 
had told him of the men who had called to her 
as she rode and frightened her so terribly. He 
knew at once who they were and that two of 
tliein were at that moment at the back of the 
store. 

They were talking loudly and laughing as 
usual. One of these two seemed to be telling 
a story of something he had seen that day. 
Joseph, as he waited for the tardy postmaster, 


ii6 


IN THE WAY 


who was interested in the story and came unwill- 
ingly with his head turned to hear the rest, could 
not help but catch some of the sentences. There 
was something being said about a bicycle and a 
girl — and — could he believe his senses ? He 
straightened up like a spirited horse that has 
been angered. Amid the loud laughter that fol- 
lowed the close of the story, there came like a 
sudden thunderclap a swift, stinging, stunning 
blow across the grinning month of the teller, 
which caused him to suddenly fall backward 
into one of the store chairs and made his head 
ring and his eyes see many constellations. There 
was startled, utter silence in the room. Joseph, 
in part by his strange moods, his alternate deep 
silence and witty, sometimes cutting, sarcasms, 
and in part by his unusual physical strength, 
had gained a supremacy over the rest which 
made them almost afraid now as he stood tall 
and strong and straight before them, with folded 
arms and lowering brows looking down at the 
dazed man before him, waiting until he should 
come to his senses sufficiently to hear what he 
had to say. Joseph was conspicuously without 
his pipe that night. The fact gave him an added 
dignity. 

The young man in the chair was Bill Brower. 
His brother Ed stood on the other side of the 
stove. They were two of those who had made 


IN THE WAY 


II7 

remarks to Ruth as she rode by their place that 
morning. The Browers were rich farmers, and 
took a good many airs on themselves, though it 
was whispered about that the father was very 
“ near.” The three young men, sons, were rap- 
idly going to the bad. Their mother, poor soul, 
had never had much control over them, and 
their father did not care so long as they worked 
and did not spend too much of his money. He 
was not over-good himself. 

Joseph had never liked these two young men. 
His sarcasms had oftenest been directed against 
them, and well he knew they dreaded his tongue ; 
for they were dull in a way, and not able to 
make quick reply or get the better of him be- 
fore others. They hated ridicule as only coarse, 
weak natures can. Now Joseph stood above 
Bill Brower and looked down in scorn as the 
other tried to recover from his blow and show 
some fight. Joseph placed a firm hand on his 
shoulder, with menace in his face, and said : 

“No, Bill ; don’t you dare to stir or answer me 
back. I have just one thing to say to you. I 
want you to understand that the young woman 
you were talking about just now is my sister and 
that you will be sorry if you ever mention her 
name in my presence again. You are not fit to 
be in the same world with such as she. Re- 
member, I mean what I say, and you will be 


ii8 


IN THE WAY 


sorry if I hear of you ever mentioning her again 
in any but a respectful manner. And you’d better 
look out how you even do that ! ” 

Then Joseph walked away and there was 
silence in Summerton grocery till he had well 
turned the corner and was out on the pike to- 
ward home. Bill Brower managed to pull his 
scattered senses together after a few minutes and 
talked a little in a threatening way, saying he 
would “have it back on Benedic’,” but the oth- 
ers only laughed at him. They were easily 
turned this way or that and had ever despised 
Bill Brower and held Joe Benedict high in their 
estimation. It did them good to see a blow well 
deserved and well planted. 

The records of the remainder of that evening 
in the grocery would not be interesting. The 
postmaster and storekeeper yawned and shut up 
store earlier than usual by a half-hour, for his 
usual entertainers and story-tellers had dropped 
out one by one. Nevertheless, the story of what 
had happened hastened on fleet wings about the 
village, a scrap of it here and a scrap of it there, 
pieced together by the village gossips who attend 
to such affairs, till it got all mixed up and 
meant an entirely different thing from the truth. 

Meanwhile Ruth was being borne by four 
strong arms upstairs, and the brothers and sister 
were taking together a complete survey of Jo- 


IN THE WAY 


II9 

sepli’s new room. They established Ruth on 
the green sofa, while David took his younger 
brother about showing him this and that feature 
of the new room as though he had been a fancy 
house furnisher and upholsterer from the city. 
Joseph admired in words stronger than his brother 
had ever heard him use before in praising any- 
thing. He told Ruth it was too good for him 
and she must have it all and let him take some 
other room, that it just fitted her ; but she, with 
happy face, told him all her plans for the house, 
and together they arranged to complete the work 
begun. Joseph was intensely interested. He 
had never been in a room like this before. He 
had not had even David’s experience of the time 
when he went to the city to see his aunt and 
take that message before their father died. His 
highest ideal of a room was the stiff haircloth 
and ingrain of the Summerton parlors to which 
he had access. 

Ruth selected one of Frank Stockton’s incom- 
parable stories and read to her brothers a little 
while to finish the evening, and they both de- 
clared they never had had such a good time in 
their lives. They laughed over the book and 
made interested comments, which showed they 
were no fools, and Ruth enjoyed the reading as 
much as they. Then as it grew late they 
planned to go at the new work in the morning. 


120 


IN THE WAY 


while Ruth should lie on her sofa and direct and 
read to them. 

Ruth, as she closed her eyes to sleep that 
night, thanked God and took courage. A 
sprained ankle was not so bad if it was the price 
of another brother. 


CHAPTER IX 



HE Reverend Robert Clifton, pastor of a 


^ month’s standing to the principal church 
of Suminerton, was in consultation with his 
deacons. He had not really been at work for 
more than a few days, for though he had 
preached Sundays in his new charge he had 
been away during the week most of the time 
making arrangements to move his mother and 
young sister to the parsonage from their old 
home in a neighboring city. Now, at last, the 
parsonage was habitable and the mother and 
sister would arrive in a few days. He was anx- 
ious to get to work. It was his first charge and 
he meant to do his best in every way. He must 
be a good pastor as well as preacher. 

They were meeting in the gloomy little room 
back of the church known formerly as the 
“lecture room,” now in process of being re- 
christened by the title of “ladies’ parlor,” at 
the suggestion of Mrs. Brummel. The Brum- 
mels were rich and had their own way. Their 
only son owned the only bicycle in town until 
Ruth’s came, and was off getting a college edu- 
cation. Mrs. Brummel had given a rocking- 


121 


122 


IN THE WAY 


chair with one spring broken, a marble-topped 
table for which she had no use, and a set of 
“ Lives of the Martyrs ” in an ancient hanging 
bookcase, which was apt to collapse at some 
critical moment if the books were not balanced 
just so ; these to carry out the illusion necessary 
to a parlor. She also cut up her old piano 
spread that the moths had eaten, and had her 
daughter Georgiana embroider crewel sunflowers 
in Kensington stitch in the corners, to spread 
over the reading desk when the ladies met to 
sew. 

The minister sat in the broken rocking-chair. 
It had been given to him out of deference to his 
office. As a matter of fact not one of the dea- 
cons enjoyed the broken spring. The minister 
was uncomfortable, but he took it as a part of 
the ills of life. He was trying to get at the 
boundary of his parish and find out “ who was 
who.” He had early discovered that the Brum- 
mels, and Browers, and one or two other families, 
were people to whom the deacons thought it 
well to pay a great deal of attention, and that 
the Barneses did not matter so much. It gave 
him a desolate feeling to find so mercenary a 
spirit among the chief men of his church. What 
if the Brummels were worth more money than 
the Barneses, were not their souls of just as much 
value in the sight of the Master ? 


IN THE WAY 


123 


“Now then, there are one or two other places 
I want to know about, Brother Chatterton. 
There is a house just a little back from the road, 
about a mile I should say beyond your house, up 
toward the Barnes place. Who lives there ? 
Do they belong to us or to the other church ? I 
can’t find out about them.” 

“Why, that mus’ be Benedic’s,” responded 
Deacon Chatterton, without much interest in his 
voice. “You needn’t trouble about them. Oh, 
they go to our church when they go anywhere, 
but they haven’t been for a long spell back now, 
not much since the old aunt died. They’re 
mostly dead, all ’twas any ’count, anyway. 
There’s only the two boys left now and they 
ain’t like other young men. One of ’em’s gone 
to the dogs, I guess, pretty much, and the other 
might as well be for all the account he’ll ever 
be to the church. Oh yes, they’ve got a good 
farm, and I guess they’re doin’ pretty well at it, 
but they never go anywhere and they live there 
alone. You can’t do nothin’ with ’em. They 
used to come to Sunday-school awhile back, but 
they grew out o’ that.” 

“They live entirely alone? Does no one keep 
house for them?” The minister was curious 
about them. For some reason they interested 
him. He had a passion for going after lost 
sheep and bringing them back. Part of his 


124 


IN THE WAY 


seminary training had been work among young 
men in the slums of a city. He would like to 
try for these two, but he must know more about 
them before he went. 

“Oh well, no, they ain’t egzackly alone now,” 
spoke up Deacon Haskins. “ There’s a sister o’ 
theirs come on from way off somewhere. I don’ 
know how long she ’ntends to stay, but I should 
say she’s set her stakes pretty deep, for she 
brought a whole raft of things along with her. 
She’s livin’ with them and she has a garl to do 
her work, so they ain’t alone now.” 

“They might a good deal better be, in my 
opinion,” put in Deacon Chatterton with em- 
phasis. “ Ef there was any ruin left to ’em, 
they’ll go to it now. From what I hear she’s a 
regular piece. She’s one o’ those new bicycle 
girls.” He spoke the words in a low convicting 
tone, much as you would speak of a ballet-dancer 
in some low theatre, and they conveyed to the 
new minister a meaning deeper and darker than 
even the good-hearted, narrow-minded deacon 
had any conception. 

“Yes,” said Deacon Hobbs, shaking his head 
regretfully and sighing a funereal sigh ; “ I’m 
afraid she’s pretty bad. There’s a story come 
straight from- headquarters about her and those 
Brower boys, and we all know what they are. 
I’m sorry for the sake of the young women of 


IN THK WAY 


125 


this locality — yes, and the young men too — 
that she’s come among us.” And he sighed 
again. 

“ Now, brethren, don’t be too hasty. We don’t 
know her as yet. Let ns wait till we see more 
of her.” 

It was Deacon Meakins, kind, sweet-spirited, 
always ready with a good word for somebody, 
everybody, who spoke. He was a thorn in the 
flesh to this body of good men, for they loved a 
little gentle gossip as well as did their sisters, 
and he was forever putting in with some meek 
reminder of mercy, or a word in favor of the one 
who was being discussed. They rose and began 
to button their coats, for the evening was chilly. 
It was time to depart if Deacon Meakins had 
begun. 

But Deacon Chatterton felt that he was 
called upon to have the last word, in this case 
especially. 

“ Brother Meakins,” he said severely, “ isn’t it 
enough that she has been an inhabitant of this 
town for now over two months, and not once 
has she made her appearance inside a church? 
I have it on good authority from two or three 
members of the other church that she has not 
been there.” 

“ Yes,” said Deacon Hobbs ; “ it is a pity, a 
great pity. Her folks were very good, respecta- 


126 


IN THE WAY 


ble people. Her father was once a deacon in 
this church.” 

“ Well, brethren,” said Deacon Meakins apolo- 
getically, “ you know she has been confined to 
the house by a sprained ankle. Dr. Stormer 
seems to have a very good opinion of her, so far 
as I have heard him say. Perhaps she might be 
helped in some way, you know, brethren.” 

“Yes, and how did she get her ankle sprained. 
Brother Meakins? ” said Deacon Chatterton with 
a severity that he evidently expected to be con- 
vincing. 

“ Dr. Stormer never says much about his pa^ 
tients. It is not to be expected,” said Deacon 
Hobbs, and then he turned the lights out and 
they all went out into the crisp autumn evening. 

The minister walked along in the starlight 
silently. He was puzzled and troubled. Here 
was this case of the Benedicts in whom he had 
been so interested. It was complicated sadly by 
this wild, gay sister. From what these men 
said, she was evidently one whose influence was 
to be dreaded, to say the least. It would not do 
for him to allow his name to be mixed up with 
hers. He must move very cautiously. It was a 
case where a woman would be a great help. His 
mother was a shy, quiet woman, who had always 
been sheltered, and who had loved to stay at 
home with her children. She could not help in 


IN THE WAY 


127 


a case like this. And his sister ! He sighed. 
She was bright and gay and pretty, but she had 
no wish to help. She was not even a Christian ; 
she must be sheltered from evil influences her- 
self. She must yet be won to Christ, and he 
had no earthly help apparently. If he only had 
a wife, one who would love the work as he did, 
and would know just how to go to work for such 
a girl as the Benedict sister, one like — here he 
stopped and would not go on, even in his 
thoughts. She was far away, and far above him. 
But how strange that this name should be Bene- 
dict ! Well, life was a queer puzzle, anyway. It 
was no use to try to think it out. He fitted his 
night key to the parsonage door and tried to 
shut out his troubled thoughts as he shut him- 
self in. He sat down in his study chair and 
drew his hand wearily across his eyes. He had 
started out that evening eager and interested, his 
spirit glad, rested, ready for work, but somehow 
he had lost his enthusiasm already. What was 
the matter ? He reached his hand to his study 
table for the Bible and it opened of itself to the 
first chapter of Joshua, perhaps because that was 
a favorite place of his. He wanted help and 
here it was. 

“ Be strong and of a good courage : for unto this 
people thou shalt divide for an inheritance the 
land, which I sware unto their fathers to give 


128 


IN THE WAY 


them. . . Be not afraid, neither be thou dis- 
mayed : for the lyord thy God is with thee 
whithersoever thou goest.” 

Surely he was not presuming to take these 
words to himself, for if he believed anything in 
life he believed firmly that the kord had called 
him to the ministry as much as he ever called 
Joshua to take Moses’ place at the head of the 
children of Israel. If this were not so he was 
committing sacrilege to try to preach at all. 
The words comforted him. The Lord who was 
leading would provide a way and would keep his 
promise. He was with him, even if he had no 
earthly helper. God would take the place of 
mother and sister and wife if need be. God 
would care for it all. There came to him the 
words of a hymn or a poem, he could not tell 
which, that he had heard recited in a young 
people’s prayer meeting by a sweet girlish voice. 
He had met the girl once or twice and talked 
with her for a few moments, and he knew that 
her life must fit such words, and so they had 
meant more to him than they would have done 
otherwise, and when he had chanced to find 
those words in print he had committed them to 
memory. 

He was not in love with the girl. He had 
never given time to thinking of such things, nor 
indeed to knowing girls very much. She was 


IN THE WAY 


129 


very young, and he had met her only once or 
twice and talked but very little with her. That 
was four years ago, before he was through the 
seminary. He could not tell if she even knew 
his name. But she had seemed like an ideally 
happy Christian, and had left a pleasant fragrance 
in his memory which he had used occasionally 
for a womanly ideal when it had been necessary 
for his thoughts to have one to fill in with some- 
where. But he was not at all sentimental, nor 
did he often think of her. The words of the 
verse were these : 

Bear not a single care ; 

One is too much for thee. 

Mine is the work, and mine alone ; 

Thy work — to rest in me. 

It was strange — and yet nothing is ever 
strange that happens to God’s people, for he 
knows the whys and wherefores — that he was 
reminded of her again the very next morning as 
he stood at the front window of the parsonage 
looking idly out at the village street that 
stretched away into blue misty mountains whose 
feet were already wreathed with the last au- 
tumnal tints. He was wondering whether he 
should venture to call at the Benedict farm that 
day or wait until his mother came and try to 
persuade her to go with him. He had just made 


130 


IN THK WAY 


Up his mind that he would pray about the mat- 
ter a little while and see if any light came, and 
perhaps he would be guided to go there that 
afternoon or the next day. He was sure he 
would be shown the way. 

A lady was walking slowly along the street, 
stopping now and then to gather a lovely crim- 
son leaf from the flagging. She walked as if 
she was waiting for some one and was not in a 
hurry. Now and then she turned her head in the 
direction of the stores as if looking for some- 
thing. She glanced up curiously at the houses as 
if they w^re new to her ; not with a steady stare 
like a person who had never been there before, but 
with a well-bred interested glance, that had such 
a touch of pleasant admiration for all she saw. 
The minister hardly knew that he was watching 
her till as she came nearer she turned her face and 
looked full up at the upper windows of the par- 
sonage. In truth she was admiring the dainty 
ruffled curtains which the minister’s mother had 
selected with great care, and thinking to herself, 
“ Some little woman with good taste lives there. 
I’m sure, and perhaps she and I will be great 
friends,” and then she turned her face away and 
looked for more leaves and walked slowly on 
and did not see the minister at all. 

And Robert Clifton looked at her full face and 
thought how like it was to that other face he 


IN THE WAY 


I3I 

had remembered, in purity of outline and with 
clear earnest eyes. He made up his mind with 
the moment’s glance he had that the woman 
looked as she would look when she grew up. 
She had been a girl with floating hair four years 
ago, and dresses not quite touching the ground 
in full-grown fashion. By and by she would be 
a woman, and then she would look like this 
woman and he would like to meet her then. 
Would she keep her childlike trust in Jesus, he 
wondered ? And then he began pondering where 
she might be and what her life was now, and 
half forgot to wonder who the passer-by had 
been, so brief had been his sight of her. He 
noticed in a moment that a surrey went by with 
a young man driving, and that farther up the 
road it stopped and picked up the lady and 
that they drove on. “ Some one from West 
Winterton,” he murmured to himself and turned 
to go to his almost completed sermon. A ser- 
mon was still an arduous and serious undertak- 
ing with him. He waflted this one to reach 
hearts. Without knowing it he had written it 
with the Benedict boys in mind. He did not 
know them, but he had imagined what they were. 
He did not expect to have them present, and yet 
his sermon was an earnest plea for Jesus Christ 
to just such young men as he imagined they 
were. But there were young men who were like 


132 


IN THE WAY 


that, and they would be present in some num- 
bers to hear the new minister preach, and the 
sermon was not written in vain, in spite of the 
fact that it did not fit the real Benedict brothers. 

Before he took up his pen he settled one 
matter. He would go and call on those two 
young men before the week was out. He would 
do it for the sake of that sweet girl face, a vision 
of which he had just beheld. She had once 
said to him that she thought God gave us our 
fancies and preferences for some real reason, and 
that if we could disconnect them thoroughly 
from our own way, we would usually find that 
they led to some work for him when we were on 
the lookout for it. She had not expressed it in 
just that way, but more simply and girlishly. 
It had impressed him at the time as being a very 
unusual thing for one who was not more than a 
little girl to say, but he had heard that her 
mother was an unusual woman. That might 
explain it. At any rate he made up his mind 
to try and follow out this fancy. 

Here the minister resolutely locked the door 
of those thoughts and dipped his pen in the ink. 


CHAPTER X 


T hrough many perplexities and prayers 
Robert Clifton had arrived at a decision 
with regard to his proposed visit to the Benedict 
farm, viz., that before another Sunday passed it 
should be accomplished ; and so the first bright 
afternoon he took his way down the long, dusty 
country road lit up along its edges with faded 
autumn tints and a few late, brave, scarlet leaves. 
He was going in fear and trembling, yet he hoped 
much from this visit. He had planned it with a 
view to reaching the entire household if possible, 
and yet not at a time when there might be danger 
of his meeting that bugbear of a sister alone. It 
would be best not to do anything which might 
make talk in a country village. He had wisely 
learned that fact early in his career. The two 
young men he was reasonably sure to find at or 
near the house at this time of the day. He had 
been utterly unable to decide what he should 
say to them when he reached there. He had 
planned conversation after conversation, but the 
unknown quantity represented by what the 
Benedict brothers would probably respond to his 
first sentences was so uncertain that he finally 


134 


IN THE WAY 


gave it up, and with a prayer that his lips might 
be guided and that his ears might hear a voice 
behind him saying, “ This is the way, walk ye in 
it,” he started on his errand. 

Arrived at the place he was surprised to find 
as he walked up the front path to the door, that 
painters seemed to be preparing to paint the 
house. He had understood that things were 
somewhat run down and that the young men did 
not care to keep them up. Perhaps this sister 
had money ; and he sighed to think of the possi- 
bilities of what that sister might be. The old- 
fashioned knocker did not give back the empty 
comfortless echo he had somehow expected, but 
it sounded forth his arrival as if from cheerful, 
well-filled rooms that had no need to shrink and 
be sad at the approach of a stranger. 

Sally the cook responded to his knock. It 
had not been exactly within the range of her 
province in the city to answer the door, but 
things were different out here, where none of her 
associates would know of her condescension, 
and besides there were so few visitors. So she 
smoothed her hair before the little glass in the 
kitchen and tied on a wide, long white apron 
which hung on the identical hook which poor 
Aunt Nancy’s had adorned for so long, and went 
with quiet, trained footsteps to the door. 

Robert Clifton was somewhat taken aback at 


IN THE WAY 


135 


the sudden appearance before him of a city- 
trained servant. For the instant he thought she 
must be the sister, though her age was somewhat 
more advanced than he had been given to sup- 
pose Miss Benedict’s to be, and he afterward 
remembered finding something incongruous in the 
thought of Sally’s dignified proportions mounted 
on a bicycle. 

It must be owned that he was somewhat 
embarrassed, and just escaped addressing Sally 
as Miss Benedict, but caught himself in time 
and asked if Mr. Benedict could see him for a 
few moments. 

Now Sally had determined in the depths of 
her soul that if she was obliged to be door maid 
as well as kitchen maid, she would make the 
most of her opportunities and impress this 
country village with a sense of the high station 
of her young mistress, so that she really suc- 
ceeded in quite overawing the young minister 
with her airs, as she told him that Mr. Benedict 
was not in, but she would see if Miss Benedict 
knew if he would be back soon, and would he 
give her his card ? Then from a tiny stand she 
produced the silver salver, and the Reverend 
Robert Clifton could scarcely find a card, so 
astonished was he at the difference between what 
he had expected and what he had found. 

While he waited in the lovely reception room 


136 


IN THE WAY 


which had once been the cold and deserted 
parlor of haircloth and red-and-green ingrain, 
he had ample opportunity to observe the many 
evidences of refinement and taste spread all about 
him. Everything was beautiful, luxurious, com- 
fortable ; evidently purchased by one who knew 
how to do such things. Mechanically his eye 
took in the fact that the heavy rugs spread in 
the wide oak hall were real Oriental. He could 
see an upright piano through a veil of fine bead 
portieres and a glimpse of an inviting couch 
with pillows, in the room opening out of the 
parlor, and across the hall a pleasant vista, a 
library furnished with luxurious leather-up- 
holstered couch and chairs, with a large reading 
table and shaded lamps, books, a low bookcase 
running around the wall. He could hear a 
canary singing in the room beyond the library. 
He wondered vaguely what sort of young woman 
would appear and rapidly began to change his 
mental picture of her. She must be a woman 
of the world, and if so, she would be doubly 
hard to reach and help, and he would need to 
take the more earnest care of his own good name. 
He began to fear he had done wrong in coming 
alone and to wish he had heeded the advice of 
Deacon Chatterton. Then there came the soft 
rustle of a dress down the stairs, and a light step 
at the door, and Ruth Benedict stood before him. 


IN THE WAY 


137 


Ruth had looked at the card curiously when 
it was brought to her. Had her servant been 
one from the village she would at once have 
been informed that the visitor was the new min- 
ister ; but Sally did not move in Summerton 
society and shunned gossip of all sorts. Ruth 
recognized the name at once as belonging to a 
young theological student whom she had met 
several times at the home of friends during a 
summer visit. He had interested her because 
he seemed in earnest, and had also disappointed 
her in some respects because he had not seemed 
to have thought seriously about a great many 
questions which to her were very important 
ones. Now her quick brain at once jumped to 
the conclusion that this student had finished his 
educational course and was a full-fledged minis- 
ter, and was probably occupying the position of 
pastor in Summerton. She had heard David say 
that there was a new minister and that he was a 
young man, and she had hoped that he would 
call on her brothers and would have a good in- 
fluence over them. Indeed she had planned it 
all out nicely how he and his wife would be such 
helpers in her schemes, and would perhaps in- 
vite them to the parsonage and make friends 
of them. She was very anxious for her brothers 
to meet some earnest, Christian, cultured young 
men. But she looked doubtfully at the card. 


138 IN THE WAY 

Would this young Mr. Clifton be the one to 
do them good ? He was bright, she knew ; in- 
deed some had called him brilliant. He was a 
Christian — she had felt sure of that when she 
met him — and that he had chosen his profession 
because he felt that God had called him to it, 
but — she drew a sigh and went downstairs 
breathing a prayer. Perhaps after all Mr. 
Clifton had changed some of his theories. She 
remembered very distinctly how it had troubled 
her to know that a young man, who was so soon 
to be a minister, had deliberately sat himself 
down to read a comic story in one of the current 
magazines on his return from the Sunday morn- 
ing service, and how later in the day, when the 
subject had come up for discussion, he had 
defended his action by saying that he did not 
believe the Lord wanted us to be long-faced, and 
that the “sabbath was made for man and not 
man for the sabbath.” He also said that his 
mother and several of his dearest Christian 
friends always read whatever they pleased on 
Sunday, and so long as it was a good thing it 
did not seem to him that the Heavenly Father 
could object. He added that their professor in 
theology in the seminary told the students that 
he had often read novels on Sunday evening 
after his most earnest services, in order to give 
his mind as entire a relaxation as possible. 


IN THE WAY 


139 


Ruth had sat quietly in a corner, a very young 
girl, not supposed to be taking any part at all in 
the conversation ; but her eyes must have ex- 
pressed wonder, and perhaps disapproval, for as 
he raised his eyes he caught her clear gaze, and 
with his pleasant smile had appealed to her with, 
“What do you think about it. Miss Ruth? Isn’t 
that a wise position I have taken ? ” 

She had not expected to be asked her position, 
but, though taken by surprise, she answered 
quietly as she had been taught to do, just what 
was in her heart. 

“ I cannot judge for any one else,” she had 
said simply. “For myself I feel as if God made 
the Sabbath for me to enjoy him in, and not to 
enjoy myself. There is a verse in Isaiah that 
settled the question for me two years ago.” 

The young theologue was pleasantly inter- 
ested. He asked for the verse and listened 
respectfully to her answers to his questions. 
She had repeated the verse in a matter-of-fact 
tone much as if she had been reading a bit of a 
letter from a dear friend. It seemed to have a 
new light to the young man as she spoke it : “ If 
thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath, from 
doing thy pleasure on my holy day ; and call the 
sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honour- 
able ; and shalt honour him, not doing thine own 
ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speak- 


140 


IN THE WAY 


ing thine own words: Then shalt thou delight 
thyself in the Lord ; and I will cause thee to 
ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed 
thee with the heritage of Jacob thy fatner: for 
the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.” He 
had hinted that these words belonged to the old 
dispensation and that we were no more under 
the law but under love, and she had laughed a 
low happy laugh. “ Oh, I don’t feel that it is a 
law at all,” she said, “ because I love him. It is 
merely a statement of what he would like to 
have me do. When my mother asks me to do 
something or says, ‘ Ruth, it would please me 
very much if such and such a thing were done,’ 
I don’t feel like going around saying my mother 
has made me do this thing, or commanded me 
to do that. But it is just as binding on me as 
if it were a law, for I know it is what she would 
like to have me do. Besides it seems to me as 
if God had put the words just in that way to 
make us see that it is meant for a law of love as 
well as that written in tables of stone. It says 
not ‘ if you don’t do these things I will punish 
you,’ but ‘ if you do them then shalt thou delight 
thyself in the Lord.’ I should think that must 
be the highest, most restful happiness there could 
be, to be perfectly delighted in the Lord and have 
him delighted in us.” 

• Their conversation had been interrupted just 


IN THE WAY 


141 

then and they had not seen each other since, but 
Ruth had carried away a troubled feeling. Her 
reverence for and her ideal of the high calling 
of the ministry had been very great. It trou- 
bled her that one who professed to believe that 
in Jesus Christ alone could true rest be found, 
would try to rest his own brain from preaching 
the message to others by reading worldly papers 
and books, some of which were written by men 
who did not believe in Jesus at all. It seemed 
to her that a minister should know the way to 
find true rest from anything in Jesus, else he 
could not point it out to others. There had 
been other discussions too, during those few 
weeks when she had seen him occasionally, that 
gave her the feeling that he was worldly in a 
great many ways. But the Ruler of all was 
leading and she could trust it with him. 

Ruth had the advantage of her visitor, for she 
was reasonably sure who he was before she saw 
him, while it had not occurred to him that she 
and the other Miss Benedict could be identical. 

“ Mr. Clifton, this is a pleasant surprise, to 
meet one who is not a stranger when I am in a 
strange land.” 

There was sweetness and modest grace in tone 
and movement. The young minister was utterly 
bewildered for a moment. She stood just as he 
had planned she would stand in the years to 


142 


IN raE WAY 


come, his ideal of Christian young womanhood. 
How had she attained to it so soon ? She ought 
to be but a little girl yet. 

But she was standing there to welcome him 
and he must gather his scattered faculties. 
All thought of the Benedict brothers, so hard to 
reach in hermitage and isolation with their wild, 
worldly, bicycling sister, drifted away from him. 
The surroundings were such as to make him 
forget. He greeted her warmly. He was eager 
to know how she came here and what it all 
meant, and he must answer her questions about 
their mutual friends. It took him some time to 
understand the situation, and he began to wax 
indignant in his heart at his deacons and their 
wicked gossip. Surely some one must be 
greatly at fault that such terrible things could 
be said. He wondered what her brothers could 
be about that they allowed it, and what indeed 
could have started it in the first place, and then 
wondered again if he had not made some great 
mistake and gotten into the wrong house ; and 
yet it was scarcely possible that he could have 
made such a mistake. Presently Ruth gave 
some light on the subject, however. 

“ I am sorry my brothers are neither of them 
in,” she said. “They told me they had not met 
the new minister. I want them to meet you. 
I am sure you can help them ; ” here she 


IN THE WAY 


H3 


looked anxiously at his face to be sure whether 
she was sure. “They are neither of them 
Christians,” she added sadly. There was an 
answering sympathetic light in the minister’s 
face which reassured her, however, as she went 
on. “ I have been so sorry not to go to church. 
Day before yesterday was the first time I have 
been outside of the yard since my accident. I 
had the misfortune to fall from my bicycle and 
sprain my ankle.” 

Ah ! here was the key to the story. He 
would ferret out the rest and have it explained 
fully. He asked a few questions about the 
matter, and then, that she might not think he 
had a special reason for his earnest inquiries, he 
changed the subject. 

“Miss Benedict,” he said earnestly, “I have 
always thought I would like you to know that 
you once helped me very much on a certain sub- 
ject, and indeed I am not sure but on more than 
one, for I found it reached to many things when 
I once began to think about it. Do you remem- 
ber a certain brief discussion on the subject of 
Sunday reading and conversation? And do you 
remember repeating to me that verse in Isaiah 
as your answer to my question what yon thought 
about the subject ? Well, that verse stayed with 
me. I could not get away from it, and in spite 
of the fact that I had settled it long before that 


144 


IN THE WAY 


I had good ground for the position I then held, 
I could not get rid of the feeling that I was 
doing wrong and grieving my Saviour every 
time I gave myself over to enjoying a secular 
book or paper on Sunday. In vain I used my 
former arguments. In vain I told myself I 
was reading this or that for the spiritual good I 
could get from it. I could not help seeing that 
that was merely an excuse I was hiding behind, 
and that the reading was being done for my 
own pleasure, more than anything else. I was 
brought to see then that I did not love my Bible 
so much as I ought to do, and that my excuse 
used heretofore that I had not time to devote to 
its study as I ought, was a flimsy one, for I did 
have some time on Sunday, if not for study, 
at least to read, and get rest and refreshment 
and joy and new strength. Then I saw that 
the Bible had not been all those things to me at 
all, and I set about changing the matter. Now 
I stand in an entirely different position from 
what I did. I do not say nor think that it is 
wrong to read anything other than the Bible or 
some strictly religious book on Sunday, but 
I do say that I have not time enough for my 
Bible now and cannot afford to lose one moment 
of the precious rest it brings to me on Sunday, 
when I am weary with my work, and I believe 
that was what He intended the book and the 


IN THE WAY 145 

day should be to us. I want to thank you for 
bringing that message to me.” 

Ruth’s face shone with the joy that comes 
with the knowledge of having helped another 
human being. Her heart was relieved about 
another matter also. There was no mistaking 
the true ring to the minister’s voice. She felt 
sure he would be a helper for her brothers. Be- 
fore there was time for any answer a step came 
across the hall and David entered. 


K 


CHAPTER XI 


D avid wore a collar now almost all the 
time. It had come about through the 
influence of the beautiful things with which the 
old house had been filled. He did not feel at 
home among them without a collar, and so he 
was gradually becoming accustomed to its stiff- 
ness. It is true he always took it off as soon as 
he reached the solitude of his own room and 
gave a sigh of relief, but he nevertheless put it 
on the next time with less reluctance. As soon 
as his farm work was done and he could come 
in the house he put on the collar. As for Joseph, 
he took to collars and the like much more natu- 
rally. He had at one time had longings toward 
a glass scarf pin and oiled hair, but having little 
use for such things his longings had not met 
with much encouragement. But David dressed 
as a distinct mark of respect for the new sister 
and the new order of things in the house. S,p 
Ruth was not ashamed of the appearance of her 
brother when he entered the room to meet the 
minister. 

He did seem somewhat surprised to find a 
stranger there, it is true, for visitors at the 

146 


IN THE WAY 


147 


Benedict farm had been few in the lifetime of 
the boys. But David’s welcome was cordial, 
and Ruth noted with pride that he did not seem 
to be embarrassed by the young minister, but 
talked well. She thought that Robert Clifton’s 
face expressed some surprise and admiration at 
David’s intelligence. She sat by listening and 
praying and watching the two. Would they 
become warm friends and mutual helpers ? She 
saw that they were mentally measuring one an- 
other, and that each was at least pleasantly im- 
pressed by the other. She wished that Joseph 
would come in, and excused herself once to go 
in search of him, but he was not to be found. 
However, just as the minister was going out the 
front gate he met Joseph coming in, and with 
his naturally frank, pleasant impulse he greeted 
him and introduced himself. It was but a mo- 
ment they stood together within the fast gather- 
ing twilight, but the younger man went into the 
house with his heart completely won over. He 
had not been in a state of mind to resist, and the 
new minister had a very winning way with him. 

Joseph was in a softened mood these days. 
Ever since Ruth had been hurt he had been 
different. All the repressed child-love that had 
found no expression seemed to be stored up in 
his nature, and was .seeking an outlet. Now he 
poured it upon Ruth. They had been a happy 


148 


IN THE WAY 


family during Ruth’s temporary confinement to 
the house, and though they did not know it, the 
two young men had been growing in knowledge 
of many kinds so rapidly as to astonish any one 
who had known them well before. It is won- 
derful what a refining influence a few pictures 
and books can have upon a human soul. Ruth 
was delighted, but yet her heart was heavy, for 
though she had been able to reach her brothers 
in many ways, there had not been one little 
minute when she felt she had done anything 
toward influencing them to come to Christ. It 
is true she recognized that she was gaining an 
influence over them that might help her in the 
future, but she was anxious to have them one 
with her on this great vital question at once, 
that she and they might grow together. She 
had been pained to discover that the subject of 
church-going was very doubtful, so doubtful that 
it often did not come up as a question at all. 
She knew that they would be willing to accom- 
pany her, at least one of them at a time, perhaps 
as soon as she was able to go, but she would so 
much rather have had them go from love of it, or 
at least from habit. She had wondered so many 
times what sort of a minister the Snmmerton 
Church had, that it was a great relief to know at 
last who he was. Somehow she felt a great deal 
more certain of his help for her brothers since 


IN THE WAY 


149 


that earnest speech of his about Sabbath keep- 
ing. To be sure it was no way to judge a man, 
by his theory on some one subject, but still it was, 
in a way, an index to his character, and as he 
had said, led off into other subjects. Still she 
had seen men whose ideas of right and wrong 
fitted hers exactly, and who were by no means 
fitted to be helpers to young men who were not 
Christians. 

Therefore Ruth prayed much during the 
Saturday that followed the minister’s call at 
their home, for a blessing on the Sunday with 
its services. She had arranged with both of 
her brothers to accompany her to church. They 
had acquiesced as a matter of course. If it 
pleased her to go to church they were entirely 
willing. Indeed on Joseph’s part there w^is not 
a little pride connected with escorting his beau- 
tiful, well-dressed sister to church. He hoped 
the Brower boys would be there, and if they 
dared once to even so much as look in her direcr 
tion, and he saw them, woe betide them. David 
wanted to amuse his sister in every way possible, 
and his only fear was that she would find their 
church a dull place. However, there was also 
an element of interest in the person of the young 
minister with whom both brothers had been 
pleasantly impressed. They would like to see if 
he could preach. He had talked with them so 


IN THE WAY 


150 

well and freely, just as if he had always known 
them and had worked beside them. At least 
David so put it to himself as he thought over 
his conversation with Robert Clifton. 

Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful. 
There had been a sharp frost during the night 
and the air was clear and crisp. 

Ruth somehow felt very happy as they drove 
down the long white road, so smooth and hard 
and straight. She had just come from commun- 
ion with Jesus and her face was shining with 
the peace in her heart. She had been enabled 
to leave all her cares and perplexities to him 
who was guiding, sure that he knew the way 
and could not make a mistake. 

The minister had spent much time upon his 
knees that week. It seemed to him that he 
could not pray enough. As the week neared its 
close and the Sunday services were at hand he 
began to realize the awful responsibility of 
speaking the word of God to the people. He 
was beginning to know some of his young 
people now, and to be personally interested in 
them for their own sake, and as he had inquired 
about this one and that, he had been pained to 
learn how few of the younger ones were members 
of the church. He had been told that Summer- 
ton was a hard field and indeed he feared from 
what he had seen that it would so prove itself. 


IN THE WAY 


I5I 

He had laid aside some of his cherished ser- 
mons which seemed to him the best fruit that 
thought and study could produce through his 
brain, and had written a plain, simple, earnest 
appeal to sinners from the text, “ What think ye 
of Christ ? ” He had written it out fully, but 
he felt that he would not have to read it, for 
every word of reason and exhortation seemed 
burned into his soul, and he wanted to speak 
from his heart to his hearers. The more intel- 
lectual sermons would have their place by and 
by, but he wanted to find out now what each one 
of them thought of Jesus Christ. He wanted 
to know what those two Benedict brothers 
thought of him ; and what the two low-browed 
men in the back seat thought ; and what some 
of the pretty giggling girls thought ; and what 
the elder members of his church, both men and 
women, thought. Did they think enough of 
Jesus the Christ to enter into the work heart and 
soul for his church, bringing all the tithes into 
the store-house and proving the Lord of Hosts 
for a blessing such as there should not be room 
to receive ? One might almost have called his 
mood exalted as he entered the house of wor- 
ship and made his way to the little study which 
occupied a small space at one side of the pulpit 
and opened into the “ladies’ parlor.” 

Deacon Chatterton and Deacon Meakins stood 


152 


IN THE WAY 


ill this doorway talking and the former stepped 
up to hand him some church notice. 

“ By the way, Deacon Chatterton,” said the 
minister, “ and you too. Deacon Meakins, you 
will be glad to learn, I am sure, that there is 
some mistake about what was said of the Bene- 
dicts. I called there this week and find that 
Miss Benedict is the adopted child of a very 
dear friend of my mother’s I have met her be- 
fore, and her character is beyond reproach. She 
is an unusually remarkable Christian, and has 
been brought up by a woman whose life was one 
long sermon. I shall rely on you two brethren 
to correct any absurd report that may have been 
spread abroad. It is very strange how such a 
thing could have started. You will find the 
young woman a great help in church work, I 
am sure. She was a power among the young 
people in her former home. She has come 
among us to stay, she tells me, and will bring 
her letter at once to this church.” 

“ But — but — the — the — bicycle !” gasped Dea- 
con Meakins anxiously. He wished to have the 
whole trouble cleared from doubt at once, and 
he had himself seen the bicycle coming from the 
freight car, though he would not have told the 
other deacons so for a good deal. 

“I don’t understand. Deacon Meakins,” said 
the minister anxiously. He wanted to be alone 


IN THE WAY 


153 


for the last minute before the bell should cease 
tolling and he thought he had explained fully. 
“ What had the bicycle to do with it ? Cer- 
tainly she rides, she told me so herself ; but very 
many young ladies do that now in the city. My 
own sister has had a wheel for some time. It is 
perfectly respectable.” 

The bell ceased to toll, and the minister’s quiet 
moment was gone. The two deacons went to 
their seats pondering, one of them relieved in 
his righteous soul, the other wondering whether 
they had chosen their minister wisely, after all, 
if he was going to uphold such things as bicy- 
cling for young women. But do him the justice 
to remember that he forgot all about it when the 
sermon began. 

Ruth Benedict dawned on Summerton, and 
between her and the new minister the attention 
of the Summerton congregation was quite di- 
vided. 

It would have been a study in human nature 
if the thoughts of the different people could 
have been pictured that morning. It might 
have somewhat discouraged the earnest minister, 
and perhaps so disheartened him that he w^ould 
have given up at once and missed the blessing, 
for there were some souls ready for his message, 
and it bore rich fruit in the days that came after. 

Ellen Amelia Haskins happened to sit near and 


154 


IN THK WAY 


almost behind Ruth Benedict, and her admiring 
eyes were scarcely taken away from the black 
velvet hat with its drooping plumes and the 
sweet oval of the earnest face before her. Once 
she turned to watch Joseph and David a moment, 
to try if she could see how they felt, sitting be- 
side such a creature and calling her sister. It 
was the nearest to a romantic story that had ever 
come into her life, and she was enjoying it to the 
full. An intense longing filled her soul to get 
nearer to this wonderful young woman and know 
more of her. For a few moments she studied 
the black velvet hat to see if it was possible to 
use that dark red velveteen she had intended 
using for big puffs to her sleeves in any such 
way. She wondered how the brim took on such 
a pretty curve and felt sure she could manage it 
if she only had some of the mysterious stuff 
they made hat frames from ; but the wonderful 
feathers were beyond anything she had ever seen 
in Summerton and she gave up the hat with a 
half-envious sigh and let herself drift off into 
enjoyment of the whole lovely figure of the 
stranger. 

Joseph had walked in with haughty mien, 
straight and protecting, beside his sister. He 
gave a glance over his shoulder to see if the 
Brower brothers were there, and when he dis- 
covered them sitting with lowering brows sul- 


IN THE WAY 


155 


lenly back near the door, he made himself a 
little straighter, if that were possible. Only to- 
ward the end of the sermon did he listen to 
what was going on. Then an illustration caught 
him and held his attention to the end ; and 
when the final amen was pronounced he con- 
firmed his first decision that the minister was 
“ something like it,” whatever that meant. Who 
shall say that that illustration did not go with 
him and help to influence all his future life? 
At least he was won to like and listen to the 
new minister, and that was a great point gained. 

David had set himself to listen at once. He 
had liked the minister and he wanted to see now 
if he was worth listening to. The former 
preacher he had always considered dry. Per- 
haps too, the fact that he had never known any 
other minister in that church since his little 
boyhood, made his familiar voice uninteresting. 
The very first words this man spoke caught his 
attention. “ What think ye of Christ?” They 
were spoken like a question to him and the 
speaker seemed to be looking directly at him. 
For some time it did not dawn upon his con- 
sciousness that the words were from the Bible. 
He almost felt that he must arise in his seat and 
give an answer and he began wondering what 
his answer would be. Perhaps if the truth must 
be frankly told he did not think anything of 


IN THE WAY 


156 

Christ. The speaker had caught his hearer. 
David had no more time for thought, for he was 
carried on the swift wings of the earnest, red- 
hot words that came straight from one soul, 
charged with an electric current from heaven, 
into the soul of another living, dying brother. 
When the end came and he stood with the rest 
as they sang, some badly, some indifferently, and 
a few with their hearts, the words, 

“ Behold a stranger at the door ! 

He gently knocks, has knocked before, 

Has waited long, is waiting still ; 

You treat no other friend so ill,** 

he felt again that strange force bidding him 
answer these charges. Was there an unseen 
choir present which helped on the village voices, 
and bore the song in angelic strains, straight in- 
to his soul? Long years afterward something 
of this thought came to him, and he did not say 
it nay. 

“It’s just as I thought,” said Mrs. Deacon 
Chatterton to herself, looking over her spectacles 
while the second hymn was being sung; “she’s 
pretty ; that kind always are ! Humph ! ” and 
then she felt thankful in a moral kind of exul- 
tation that Eliza Barnes was not out at church 
to-day ; she was saved at least one week of temp- 
tation. For some reason Mrs. Chatterton seemed 
to consider all things pretty a temptation. 


IN THE WAY 


157 


The Brower boys went out from the church 
feeling uncomfortable, they hardly knew why. 
The sermon had made them feel so. They were 
too dull to understand the reason and too wicked 
to heed what had been spoken to them. Perhaps 
though, the seed fell not all on stony ground in 
their hearts. But they said on the way home 
that they did not like the new minister, and 
what was more, they never would like him. 

The benediction was pronounced and David 
Benedict was just about to step out into the 
aisle when the minister placed a detaining hand 
upon his shoulder. 

“ One minute, Benedict ; I want your sister to 
teach a class in the Sunday-school and I want 
you and your brother for my Bible class. Your 
brother half promised me that he would stay. 
It won’t hinder you to remain, will it ? I really 
need your sister for a teacher very badly.” 

David gave his consent at once, amazed be- 
yond expression. Joseph had promised to attend 
Sunday-school ! By what power had the min- 
ister abstracted that promise, and when had he 
met Joseph? The millennium must surely be 
about to dawn. He would not put one hinder- 
ing stone in the way of either Joseph or his 
sister. So, although he shrank from going 
into a class, and tried to get away on pretext of 
looking after the horses, the minister laughingly 


IN THE WAY 


158 

held on to him and he went over to the corner 
and sat down with the Bible class, to the amaze- 
ment of Deacon Chatterton and the gratification 
of Deacon Meakins. And there sat Joseph ! 
David could not get over it. The brothers 
wisely refrained from looking at one another, 
but sat in their places as if they had been ac- 
customed to coming to Sunday-school from time 
immemorial. Truth to tell, Joseph had not in- 
tended to stay at all, but some strange power in 
that winning smile of the minister forced him 
against his will. Besides, Ruth seemed anxious 
to remain. 

The minister escorted her down the aisle to 
the corner where sat a row of giggling girls, and 
placed her in front of the delighted and wholly 
devoted Ellen Amelia. As he went down the 
aisle he said in a low tone to his new teacher : 
“You are just the one for that class I am sure. 
There is one girl who needs yon — and probably 
more — but I am interested in her. She is Dea- 
con Haskins’ daughter. You will know her. 
She is the one who looks as if she had tried to 
and couldn’t.” 

“And am I supposed to help her try to and 
can ? ” asked Ruth, laughing. 

“ Well, I had not put it that way ; I had sup- 
posed the proper thing would be to teach her not 
to try what she cannot accomplish, but perhaps 


IN THE WAY 159 

it would be better to show her how to attain to 
the height of her ambitions.” 

Then he left her before those girls who were 
every one of them ready to adore her at once, if 
they ever got quite over being a little afraid of 
her. As soon as the first awe of having the 
velvet hat in their immediate midst had disap- 
peared somewhat, they began to sing very loud 
and look proudly over at the other classes of 
girls who had not a new, stylish teacher from 
the city. And so is Christ’s work mingled with 
the wickedness of this world and the petty sins 
of the human heart. 


CHAPTER XII 


“ OHE was real solemn part of the time,” said 
Ellen Amelia as she passed her plate for 
some more cabbage. “ I wouldn’t have thought 
she was that kind. She ain’t quite like any 
girls I ever read of either, for she don’t seem 
proud one bit, though she does wear such lovely 
clothes. She had the cutest little pin on her 
collar, a wreath of green leaves with a little 
pearl between each one. If I had a pin like that 
I’d be just too happy to live. And she had a 
beautiful ring on. I saw it when she took off 
her glove to write in our class book.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know why you shouldn’t be 
proud, if you want to, without any pin or ring. 
You’ve just as good a right to as she. Your 
father makes more money than hers ever did, 
and because he ain’t such a fool as to let you 
spend it on gewgaws isn’t any reason why you 
shouldn’t be proud of him, if you want to.” 

It was practical, anxious little Mrs. Haskins 
who said this. But Ellen Amelia did not get 
her admiration for the romantic from her moth- 
er’s side of the family. Her mother strongly 
disapproved of the “ Fireside Companion,” on the 

i6o 


IN THE WAY 


l6l 


ground that Ellen Amelia might be better em- 
ployed in darning stockings for the younger 
Haskinses than in dreaming over its columns. 
She never read it herself and therefore had no 
moral grounds of objection. But Deacon Has- 
kins was weak and yielding where his daughter 
was concerned and quietly subscribed for it in 
response to her earnest pleadings. 

“Well, I know one thing,” went on Ellen 
Amelia, with her mouth full of cabbage ; “I 
mean to cut over my brown basque and fix a 
little jacket to it like hers, and make a front out 
of that blue and green silk handkerchief Uncle 
Timothy sent me from New York. I just know 
I could do it.” 

“ No, you are not ! ” interjected her mother 
sharply. “ Your brown basque is good enough 
as it is, and I won’t have you wasting your time 
chopping up good things to make an outlandish 
copy of a girl you never saw before. If that’s the 
kind of thing you learn in Sunday-school you 
better stay at home.” 

Probably the young teacher, who was at that 
moment kneeling beside her bed and praying 
that the words she had spoken to those girls that 
morning might not all have been in vain, would 
have agreed with the mother could she have lis- 
tened. But though dress and romance were 
uppermost in Ellen Amelia’s mind, there was an 


i 62 


IN THE WAY 


undercurrent of something earnest, some longing 
she had never felt before, which, strange to say, 
found its outlet in a desire to dress like her new 
idol. Miss Benedict was lovely. Why could 
not she be lovely if she could make herself look 
like that? She had something higher in her 
soul than Ellen Amelia understood, and Ellen 
Amelia had resolved to have it too if possible. 
The only way to get it was to try to be like the 
girl who possessed it. The only way to be like 
her was to begin with her dress. Ellen Amelia 
meant well, and would come out right in the 
end. 

She stood at the window of the front room of 
her father’s house one afternoon of that week 
digging a pin diligently into the window sash 
and winking back the tears. She and her 
mother had just been having a rather angry talk 
about the brown basque. Ellen Amelia was 
determined to have the little jacket fronts put 
on in the way Miss Benedict’s had been. She 
had coaxed and reasoned all in vain. Mrs. 
Haskins was firm. The brown basque should 
not be cut up nor its fashion altered in any way. 
Ellen Amelia hated it. It did not fit her. Its 
plain darts were too flat and the point at the 
waist in front stuck out. It was a great trial to 
her. She had resolved to model herself after 
this lovely stranger, in short to be such a pattern 


IN THE WAY 


163 

of loveliness in every respect that her mother 
should be astonished, at her. It need not be 
thought that Ellen Amelia had not recognized 
the higher something which Ruth Benedict pos- 
sessed, for she did and longed to possess it her- 
self ; but how was she to do so if she could not 
even attain the outward similitude ? The trouble 
with Ellen Amelia was that she began at the 
outward instead of the inward to model her like- 
ness. But after all, was she much to blame ? 
She understood better the outward, and who 
shall say God did not mean the outward adorn- 
ing sometimes to be the key to the inner one. 
It is true it might have turned out otherwise 
had not Ruth’s taste in dress been quiet, modest, 
self-respecting, and lovely. There was nothing 
of flash or showiness about Ruth Benedict. 

Ellen Amelia looked out on the bright autumn 
world and thought it a dark one. How was she 
to improve herself and do any of the great things 
her heroines of the weekly story papers always 
succeeded in doing in the world, if her mother 
would persist in throwing hindrances in her 
path? She sighed discontentedly and wished 
she could ever have anything she wanted. If 
only she might have a new dress and make it 
the way she wanted to ! But no, of course her 
mother would insist on cutting it out in her own 
way, even if she did have one. 


164 


IN THE WAY 


Just then her meditations were interrupted by 
the wild gesticulations of her little brother 
Amos, who was waving a large paper package 
which proved to be an express package, and ad- 
dressed to her. Ellen Amelia’s heart fluttered 
and she thought of all the possibilities of princes 
in disguise who might have seen her in some 
impossible way and fallen in love with her at 
first sight, found out who she was in an equally 
improbable way, and sent her some rare gift. 
Ellen Amelia was always getting up some such 
sudden picture of ravishing delight for herself 
only to have it dashed in hard practical bits at 
her feet by the stern facts of the case. Yet in 
spite of repeated disappointments and dashing of 
hopes, her buoyant imagination was always 
ready for a new possibility of wonder which 
should “ robe her in gown of the finest texture 
and deck her with jewels so fair.” Really there 
were possibilities of great good or evil in Ellen 
Amelia, and if some prince of darkness in dis- 
guise had happened to appear about this time in 
her path it would have been worse for her. She 
was in great danger. But there was a Wiser 
than her mother and father watching over her. 
Even now some good was coming to her through 
a common express package sent by her Uncle 
Timothy in New York. He was a policeman 
there and well to do. He had no children of his 


IN THE WAY 


165 

own, and remembered well how he used to romp 
with and care for little tow-headed Ellen Amelia 
when she was but five years old and he a clerk 
in his brother’s hardware store. At long inter- 
vals, with no seeming reason like a birthday or 
Christmas for an excuse, he sent Ellen Amelia 
something. There had been but two of these 
gifts before this one. The first had been a gold 
dollar, and the second the aforementioned blue 
and green silk handkerchief. 

Great excitement prevailed in the Haskins 
family while the package was being opened, and 
Ellen Amelia felt her importance. Mother 
Haskins came with her dish towel over her arm 
and a teacup she was wiping in her hand. 
Grandmother Haskins came with a button be- 
tween her lips and little Tommie Haskins’ red 
flannel “ Johnny cloths ” she was mending in 
her hand, while young Amos and Tommie hung 
over the paper and gloated over each difficult 
knot in the heavy twine in a transport of de- 
light. If you could not have express packages 
addressed to yourself, why then surely it was the 
next best thing to have your sister get one. 

The papers fully unwrapped, disclosed to view 
soft rich folds of dark blue serge material, a 
good full dress pattern of it. Uncle Timothy 
certainly had good taste, or else had asked the 
advice of the dress-goods clerk. Certainly he 


IN THE WAY 


1 66 

could not have selected anything that would 
have brought out better the uncertain com- 
plexion of Ellen Amelia, who would have liked 
to be beautiful, but alas ! knew not how to make 
the best of what she had. 

After the first excitement was over, Ellen 
Amelia sat down to enjoy her present by her- 
self. There was a shadow over her joy even so 
early. Her mother had said with grim satisfac- 
tion, “That’ll save buyin’ you anythin’ new this 
winter, thank fortune ! We must get at makin’ 
it as soon’s the boys’ flannels is out of the way,” 
and she had gone back to her labors in the 
kitchen, rejoicing truly that her daughter would 
have such a beautiful dress, planning the while 
to cut it by a pattern whieh fitted herself, as 
Ellen Amelia was growing so large now. 

But the daughter took the beautiful goods up 
to her room and sat down to think. She had 
visions of the dress as it would look if it were 
made by her mother, — as her dresses had always 
been made, — with her own assistance, of course ; 
and she also had another vision of the dress as 
it would appear if it were modeled after Miss 
Benedict’s. Oh, if she could but attain to a 
city dressmaker! But, of course, that was out 
of the question. She had but three dollars and 
twenty-five cents of her own, and she did not 
feel like asking her father for more for that pur- 


IN THE WAY 


167 


pose. Money was not plentiful in the Haskins 
family. _Bllen Amelia sighed again. A dress- 
maker was out of the question, and even if she 
were not she would have to be Miss Dunnet, the 
Summerton dressmaker, from West Winterton, 
and Ellen Amelia’s soul had aspirations beyond 
Miss Dunnet. She had secretly compared the 
hang of Georgiana Brummel’s skirt with the 
graceful sweep of Ruth Benedict’s last Sunday, 
and she longed inexpressibly to be enfolded in 
such long, graceful folds as Miss Benedict was 
able to compass. Ellen Amelia was a girl of 
determination, and when she could not do a 
thing one way she generally managed to do it 
another. It was perhaps for this reason that she 
had impressed the minister as one who “ tried 
to and couldn’t.” Only he did not know. She 
tried and accomplished, but by so hard and cir- 
cuitous a route that the result was utterly dif- 
ferent from what she had planned. But this 
time she determined to do a rather daring thing. 
She would go to Miss Benedict and see if she 
could borrow a skirt pattern. She had a secret 
fear that her errand might all be in vain, and 
that city young ladies did not usually even know 
that their dresses required a pattern, but she 
could but fail if she tried. So, making an 
excuse of some trifling errand, she started out, 
not without much fear and trembling. 


IN THE WAY 


1 68 

Once on her way, she began to almost repent 
her hasty action. What would the elegant 
young city lady think of her, asking for a skirt 
pattern? Ellen Amelia had walked about a 
mile and was nearing the border of the Bene- 
dict farm, when she determined firmly that she 
would say nothing whatever about the skirt pat- 
tern. Indeed, as she came in sight of the house 
she began to think maybe it would be better not 
to go in at all, but to go on up to the Barnes’ 
house and do that errand for her father she had 
promised to do some time. It would look pre- 
suming in her to call on Miss Benedict. To be 
sure Ruth had kindly invited all her class to 
come and see her, saying she was lonely and 
wanted to get acquainted, but Ellen Amelia 
could scarcely conceive of that being exactly 
true. How could she be lonely and want com- 
mon village companionship when she occupied 
so novel a position, mistress of a grand home, 
full of beautiful things, and two newly made 
brothers to worship her — for that Joseph and 
David thought a great deal of their sister, she 
had fully decided, duriiig her brief view of their 
faces on Sunday. 

When she reached the gate she paused, half 
turned to go in, and then quickly looking side- 
wise at the windows turned and went rapidly 
on, a few steps. It was a very hard thing, how- 


IN THE WAY 


169 


ever, to come so near this dream of paradise and 
not go in. Ellen Amelia looked back again, 
and saw, oh wonder of wonders, a window 
thrown up, and a white hand with a dainty 
handkerchief waving at her, and a voice calling 
her, “Miss Haskins.” 

It had really never struck Ellen Amelia in the 
grown-up sense before, that she was Miss Has- 
kins. It sounded so dignified and far-away. 
She expected to be Ellen Amelia to the end of 
her days, unless indeed the wonderful prince 
came. She had sometimes thought that he 
might call her “Miss Ellen,” or “Miss Alene,” 
or “ Miss Amelie,” as she variously designated 
herself after reading some of her favorite serials. 

But to be called “Miss Haskins” by another 
girl, and such a girl, putting her on a level with 
herself, and speaking the words with such a 
sweet friendly tone, Ellen Amelia could scarcely 
believe her ears. She stopped, of course, and 
obeyed the summons, and was almost over- 
powered by the splendor and comfort of the 
room into which she was ushered, which proved 
to be the library. 

Ruth had been praying for this scholar of hers 
ever since Sunday. She had been asking her 
Heavenly Father to give her some opportunity of 
helping her, if it was his will. Therefore she 
did not feel that it was all chance that she should 


170 


IN THE WAY 


look Up from her writing desk by her upper 
window and see the figure of the girl for whom 
she had been praying. There was something 
about Ellen Amelia that was unmistakable even 
at a distanee, if one had once noticed her 
carefully. Perhaps it was the “ tried-to-and- 
couldn’t-ness ” of her. At least Ruth felt sure 
her opportunity was coming, and when, as she 
watched, she saw that the girl wanted to come 
in and hesitated, she helped on the opportunity 
by opening her window and calling to her. 

“ I am so glad you were passing,” began Ruth 
when she had seated her bewildered visitor and 
insisted on her removing her wraps, for the day 
was a cold one. “ I was just hoping some one 
would come, for I am alone this afternoon.” 

She was very winning and pleasant and she 
seemed to know exactly how to take away the 
embarrassment from her visitor. Some fine in- 
stinct, or perhaps some higher spiritual guidance, 
told her that her guest would be more at her 
ease if she could once have opportunity to look 
about the room, and wear away her awe of 
things, and so Ruth made an excuse to leave her 
alone in that wonderful room for full five minutes 
on plea of giving a direction to Sally, and when 
she came back Ellen Amelia, as she had hoped, 
had regained some of her abundant spirit, and 
was able to talk. Indeed she even lost her 


IN THE WAY 1 71 

embarrassment so much as to become quite con- 
fidential and to admire her hostess. 

“You do have the loveliest life ! ” said Ellen 
Amelia with an adoring look in her eyes. 
“ My ! I just wish I was you ! ” 

“ Oh no, you don’t ! ” said Ruth quickly with 
something of fun, and something of sadness too, 
in her tone. “ Why, no one’s life would exactly 
suit any one else. And then think” and her 
voice saddened, “ you have a mother and father ; 
and I, though I had two, have been left without 
either. You wouldn’t change places with me for 
a minute if you would stop to think. You 
would not give up your father and mother and 
your grandmother — didn’t you tell me you had a 
grandmother? Just think what it would be to 
be without them.” 

“Oh well,” said Ellen Amelia uneasily, “of 
course I wouldn’t want them to die ; but if I had 
never known them and could be you it would be 
lovely. I think it must be awful nice to have 
things the way you want them without having 
to ask a soul, and not have your mother always 
saying ‘No’ to everything you want. Ma and 
I just had a time about something. I must say, 
I think I’m old enough to do as I please.” 

Ruth’s face grew sad and her heart heavy. 
How was one to talk to a girl who had such 
unnatural feelings as this one ? 


172 


IN THE WAY 


“ Oh, you don’t know what you are saying, 
I’m sure, my dear,” said Ruth earnestly, placing 
her pretty white hand on Ellen Amelia’s arm. 
“ I can’t bear to hear you talk like that. If you 
were tried once you would feel so differently. 
Why, I would give all the world just now to 
have my mother, or some one, tell me what to 
do. It seems to me I would be willing to do the 
most disagreeable thing if only I might have 
them to please once more. And you should not 
feel so about your mother. A mother is such a 
wonderful being, almost like God in some of her 
qualities. A mother has to bear so much. Your 
mother, I’m sure, does not hinder you from any- 
thing that she feels is for your good.” 

“ Oh no, of course not,” said Ellen Amelia 
with a little of the shrug of her shoulders which 
she used at home when she did not like things ; 
“but her ideas of what is for my good, and 
mine, are very different. My mother thinks it 
isn’t for my good to ever have my own way in 
anything. You have your own way all the 
time.” 

“That is where you are utterly mistaken, my 
dear,” said Ruth, determining to be bright and 
not seem to be too severe on the girl the first 
time. Indeed, her first feeling on hearing her 
guest speak so of her mother to a stranger, had 
been one of shocked horror, and she could scarce- 


IN THE WAY 


173 


ly forbear a severe rebuke ; but further reflec- 
tion made her feel that probably the mother 
might be a little hard on her daughter, and if 
she would help any she must gain the girl’s con- 
fidence. “ Nobody can have his own way in any- 
thing in this world without getting into trouble. 
God is guiding the world, and if we try to take 
hold and do his work we should get all mixed 
up. I don’t often get my own way and I some- 
times have to do things that I don’t in the least 
want to do ; but never mind that now. Suppose 
you tell me the particular thing you want to do, 
if it is something I may know. I would like to 
sympathize with you in it at least ; or perhaps I 
can show you it isn’t a real trouble after all,” and 
Ruth laughed her happy, contagious laugh. 

Ellen Amelia looked down. She snddenly 
felt shy. She did not like to tell Miss Benedict 
about her troubles over dress. But the winning 
voice was saying, “ Can’t you tell me dear, or is 
it something I must not know? I don’t want to 
pry into things that are not my affairs, of course.” 

Ellen Amelia flushed. She did not wish to 
seem to refuse anything that Miss Benedict asked 
her, and somehow it was all like a story, her 
asking her in that frank pleasant way, just like 
“Ethel” when “Mr. Atholind ” asked her if — 
what was it he asked her in last Saturday night’s 
paper ? 


174 


IN ME WAY 


“My! but you would make a good character 
for a book now, you look so pretty sitting in that 
attitude,” said Ellen Amelia suddenly, raising 
her admiring eyes to Ruth’s face. 

Ruth was disappointed and showed it in her 
eyes at once. If Ruth wanted to keep a secret 
ever, she always had to hide her eyes, for they 
would tell all they knew in spite of her. Ellen 
Amelia saw the disappointment and knew it had 
to do with her. She was repentant at once, and 
with eyes drooping again she said : 

“ Yes, I’m going to tell you. It’s a thing you 
can know if you want to ; only I just know 
you’ll laugh at me.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


FTER repeated assurances from Ruth that 



she would not laugh, Ellen Amelia burst 
out with her confidence : 

“Well, then, it’s my clo’es. I can’t have a 
thing made the way I want it. Just look at that 
dress ! ” and she stood up and surveyed the front 
of a faded novelty-cloth, which had evidently 
been purchased more for its style than its dura- 
bility. “You know it doesn’t hang right. I 
don’t know what’s the matter with it, so I can’t 
fix it. I’ve got a new dress to-day, a present 
from my uncle in New York. It’s real pretty 
and I’d like to have it made nice, like some 
of yours ; but ma will have to make it, and she’ll 
make it the way she did my last year’s, only 
.with the sleeves a little bigger, I suppose. I 
want some jackets and front fixings, but she 
don’t know how to make them and she thinks 
it’s a waste of time for me to fuss ; and besides, 
she says I don’t know how any more than she 
does, so I have to have them the way she makes 
them. I started out here this afternoon to ask 
you if you had a skirt pattern and would lend it 
to me, but when I got out here I got scared ; be- 


176 


IN THE WAY 


sides, I remembered that probably you never had 
a skirt pattern in the house ; you most likely 
sent your dresses all to some dressmaker and 
didn’t know how they were made, so I decided 
to go on. I wouldn’t have come in at all if you 
hadn’t called me. Now don’t you think I’m an 
awful fool ? ” 

Ellen Amelia’s courage was high pitched and 
failed her just now, while tears of mortification 
and embarrassment filled her eyes. But Ruth 
soothed her and made her sit down again. 

“ I’m very glad you came to me, I am indeed. 
I think I can help you. Indeed I have plenty 
of skirt patterns in the house, some very pretty 
simple ones too, and I do not think I have a 
single dress that was made by a dressmaker. I 
made every one myself. My mother thought 
every girl ought to know about that and so she 
sent me to the finest institution that could be 
found in the city for learning dressmaking. You 
know the schools of domestic science are very 
fine now. I made all my own and my mother’s 
dresses for a year or two. It isn’t so hard when 
you know how. Suppose you come up here and 
spend the day on Thursday and bring your new 
dress along and we’ll make it. I think we can 
finish it in a day or two if we work fast. I have 
done a dress in a day with some one to help. 
Are you a good seamstress ? I’m to be alone all 


IN THE WAY 


177 


day on Thursday, for my brothers have to drive 
over to West Winterton with some sheep. Will 
your mother mind ? Tell her I know all about 
dressmaking, for I went to one of the best 
schools. Perhaps she’ll be glad to be relieved 
of it.” 

Ellen Amelia’s eyes shone and her breath 
came quick. Could it be true? This young 
woman with the immaculate apparel made all 
her wonderful garments herself ! And could she 
believe her ears ? Was she offering to help her ? 
Would it be possible that a Haskins could ever 
look like this city maiden? And a school for 
dressmaking ! Would the wonders never cease ? 
She had supposed that dressmaking was some 
special gift conferred upon a few maiden ladies 
and unfortunate widows, who by patient service 
had been granted an ability to make things look 
different from anything any one else could do, 
and by this earned their living. 

She gave her eager and ready consent to spend 
Thursday, dress and all, with her new friend, if 
she were not imposing too much upon her. She 
said she was certain her mother would be pleased, 
which I fear was a polite little lie she had 
learned from the “ Fireside Companion.” In her 
heart she much feared that her mother would 
put her foot down most decidedly upon the prop- 
osition, but also in her heart she meant to con- 

M 


IN THE WAY 


178 

trive some way to carry out her purpose and 
have one dress made as she wanted it ; for did not 
this dress belong to herself? and surely she ought 
to have the right to say how it should be made. 

On her return home however, she found to her 
surprise that her way had been made plain. 
Her mother looked very tired and a shade of 
oldness seemed to be upon her face. Ellen 
Amelia had never before noticed that her mother 
was growing old, and it came to her with some- 
thing of a shock. She remembered Miss Bene- 
dict’s words, “You would not give up your 
mother.” It gave her a strange feeling and she 
did up the dishes of her own accord after supper 
without waiting to be asked, which was unusual. 
She never wanted to leave her reading after sup- 
per. The mother seemed to appreciate this un- 
usual mark of daughterliness, for with a gentler 
tone than she was accustomed to use she said, 
when Ellen Amelia came back to the sitting 
room after the kitchen was all in order for the 
morning : 

“Ellen ’Melia, I’m just afraid you’ll have to 
give up havin’ that new drCvSS made up till after 
Thanksgivin’, ’tany rate. I’ve been thinkin’ 
how I could get it in, and I just can’t see my way 
clear, not if I go to nurse at Miss Crampton’s 
them two weeks, and I’ve give my promise, you 
know. I feel sort o’ done out to-day, and ef 


IN THE WAY 


179 


’twan’t fer your grandmother I’m sure I don’t 
see how I would’ve got through the work. As 
it is, I think I’ll go to bed early. I’m sorry 
you’ll have to wait for your dress, but it can’t be 
helped. You can console yourself by thinkin’ 
you wouldn’t have hed any at all ef it hadn’t 
been for your Uncle Timothy.” 

Now was Ellen Amelia’s opportunity. 

“Now ma, don’t you worry about that dress; 
I’m goin’ to make it myself. I went to call on 
Miss Benedict this afternoon, and she’s invited 
me to spend the day with her Thursday and 
she’ll help make it. She’s been to a big school 
where she learned how to make all her clo’es, 
sacks and hats and everything, and she said she 
would just like nothin’ better ’n to show me. I 
thought it would be a real relief to you, ma, and 
so I told her I’d come if you didn’t need me for 
anything on Thursday.” 

Mrs. Haskins did not altogether approve of 
the plan, but her pride was somewhat pleased to 
have Miss Benedict, with her pretty clothes, 
actually willing to help her daughter make a 
dress, and the weary mother consented, with 
many a sigh and a misgiving. She told Ellen 
Amelia she had her doubts about the hang of 
the skirt, the set of the waist, and was afraid 
there would be too many new-fangled things on 
it, but she supposed if Ellen Amelia’s heart was 


i8o 


IN THE WAY 


set on it, nothing else would do, and as it was a 
present she had a right to spoil it if she pleased. 
With which ungracious permission she reflected 
with satisfaction that her daughter would have 
a dress and she would not have to worry over it. 

Thursday morning dawned bright and clear 
and found Ellen Amelia on her way to the Bene- 
dict farm. Such a gala day had not been before 
her since she was a little girl and anticipated for 
months beforehand the yearly May-day all-day 
picnic. Now she was to have her beloved Miss 
Benedict all to herself for a whole day in that 
lovely house. To be sure it would have been no 
drawback to have had David and Joseph in the 
background of the setting for an hour or two at 
mealtimes, and it had been no part of the induce- 
ment to her coming when Ruth had mentioned 
their intended absence. Ellen Amelia had felt 
the least bit disappointed. But then one could 
not mind about so small a thing when there was 
so much in the day besides. She hummed a 
tune as she hurried along with her face very 
bright. She met the minister hurrying toward 
the station and wondered if he was going to 
meet “his folks” and wondered what they would 
be like and if she would like them. She wished 
she could linger to see them, but knew that 
every moment was precious to the finishing of 
the blue serge, and hastened on. 


IN THK WAY 


l8l 


Ruth had prepared a large sunny room on the 
second floor as a sewing room, and all her cut- 
ting and sewing appliances were arranged ready. 
The sewing machine was one of the best and 
would almost sew of itself. Ellen Amelia ad- 
mired and wondered over it while she was being 
shown the difference between it and her mother’s 
lumbering old one. The cutting table, the trac- 
ing wheel and bright shears, all had a charm 
that implements of common every-day work did 
not usually have for this girl. She was fonder 
of reading than of work. But she sighed and 
told herself she would love to sew if she could 
work with such tools. They studied awhile 
over some fashion plates Ruth had brought out, 
and Ellen Amelia supposed she was choosing 
from them the one she would like her dress made 
after, but in reality she was being advised as to 
what would become her and suit her material, 
and was having her eyes opened with regard to 
a number of points which had heretofore escaped 
her notice. It would appear that a style suited 
to a light, thin evening dress for the lazy beau- 
ties who lolled on velvet cushions in the weekly 
story papers, was not suited to heavy wool ma- 
terial intended for church and street wear, nor 
indeed for sensible, every-day living. Neither 
did it appear to be in good taste to put much 
trimming on even handsome material which was 


i 82 


IN THE WAY 


to be worn to church or to any other quiet place 
in the world where one was in earnest. Ellen 
Amelia learned, without exactly knowing how, 
that one’s dress always expresses one’s self, and 
that if we do not wish to give false impressions 
of ourselves we must be careful that the dress 
shall express what we would have our lives 
show. She pondered over this fact all day and 
wondered if religion had anything to do with 
dress, and tried to forgive herself for thinking a 
thought so irreverent. 

Every moment of that morning was an inex- 
pressible delight and excitement to Ellen Amelia. 
Fortunately the sewing room held no decorations 
save the simplest, or the mind of the young girl 
would certainly have been too upset to do much 
work. But the rapid, trained fingers of the 
young teacher were making progress all the 
time, and she had the rare talent of being able 
to talk pleasantly and without impatience, the 
while she worked as rapidly as her fingers could 
fly. 

They had as dainty a lunch together as the 
lofty Sally could prepare. She sniffed a good 
deal to herself at having to waste her fine arts 
of cookery on a village girl who would much 
rather have ham and eggs, she presumed, but she 
did her mistress’ bidding thoroughly, in spite of 
her sniffing. Ruth had trieci to have everything 


IN THE WAY 


183 

as dainty as possible and yet not so elaborate 
that it could not be easily remembered and 
copied if her guest should choose to do so. She 
believed most emphatically in the elevating 
power of little things. A girl’s manners could 
not but be made better if she habitually ate at a 
dainty table. Also, she tried to have everything 
eatable as unlike as possible to that to which she 
thought Ellen Amelia was accustomed. And 
indeed the girl felt that she was dining on the pro- 
verbial nectar and ambrosia. There was a deli- 
cate soup of pale pink color, in whose rich, 
creamy deliciousness she would never have rec- 
ognized the familiar tomato. There were tiny, 
shell-like cups of rich chocolate, foamed with 
whipped cream, and there was some strange, 
new delectable custard in little molds, and thin, 
sweet wafer crackers. Ellen Amelia’s eyes were 
bright and her wits were quick. She was rather 
afraid of the array of spoons and forks, but she 
watched her hostess and tried to appear at her 
ease, and really succeeded remarkably well. 
Ruth had guessed well that the ceremony and 
the strangeness of the dishes would please her 
guest more than to have a simple dinner, such 
as she had every day at home. Ellen Amelia 
was one who liked mystery and newness beyond 
anything else in life. 

After lunch Ruth left her guest in the parlor for 


184 


IN THE WAY 


a few minutes to wander about and look as much 
as she pleased, and then she came and played 
and sang a few bright little songs for her and 
one tender, sweet one, about a mother and a 
home. She had selected these songs with care 
and prayer and a view to reaching the different 
longings she thought she saw in Ellen Amelia’s 
eyes. Then, arm in arm, they went back to 
their work. Said Ellen Amelia : 

“ Do you think it is wicked to care awfully for 
pretty things ? I don’t suppose you do, because 
you have so many around you ; but I don’t quite 
understand it. You talked in Sunday-school as 
if you were terribly good.” 

“No,” said Ruth, “I don’t think it is at all 
wicked. On the contrary, I think it is wrong 
not to have things just as pretty as you can. If 
it were wicked to have things pretty God would 
not have made the world beautiful. He might 
just as well have made the sun go down in 
gray every night, instead of throwing crimson 
and gold and purple clouds in the west. Just 
look at the landscape the next sunset hour and 
see if it isn’t beautiful, and then tell me whether 
you do not think God likes beautiful things, and 
loves to have us enjoy them too.” 

“ Well,” said Ellen Amelia, “ I s’pose that’s 
true about the things he made. But it’s wicked 
to like pretty clo’es, ain’t it ? ” 


IN THE WAY 


185 


“ Well, no ; I don’t think it is. There is a 
difference between liking pretty clothes, and be- 
ing so fond of attracting attention by showy 
dressing that one thinks of nothing else. I 
think every one ought to be as careful about 
having the dress neat and tasteful and becoming 
as they are about having their faces washed clean 
every day and their hair neatly combed. It 
is a duty. Did you ever read ‘ Ethics of the 
Dust’ or ‘ Sesame and Eilies’? No? Well, Mr. 
Ruskin says dressing is a virtue. Here, let me 
read you a few words while you sew on those 
hooks. You’ll be interested in that book if you 
never read it. Take it home and enjoy all about 
the Crystal life and the Crystal sorrows and the 
Crystal virtues. I’m sure you will like it if you 
read it carefully.” 

Ruth left the room a moment and while she 
was gone her visitor reflected with joy that she 
should have a book to take home. She wondered 
who this “ Sesame ” was, and if the Lilies had 
to do with another girl, and what the Crystal 
things were she had spoken of, if they were any- 
thing like that story of the lady of the crystal pal- 
ace and the sleeping knight she read last year. 

Then Ruth came back and read : 

“ Lecturer. I said their (a girl’s) second vir- 
tue was dressing. 


IN THE WAY 


1 86 

“ Mary. Well ! wliat did you mean by that ? 

“ Lecturer. What do you mean by dressing ? 

“ Mary. Wearing fine clothes. 

“ Lecturer. Ah ! there’s the mistake. I mean 
wearing plain ones. 

“ Mary. Yes, I daresay ! but that’s not what 
girls understand by dressing, you know. 

“Lecturer. I can’t help that. If they under- 
stand by dressing, buying dresses, perhaps they 
also understand by drawing, buying pictures. 
But when I hear them say they can draw, I 
understand that they can make a drawing ; and 
when I hear them say they can dress, I under- 
stand that they can make a dress and — what is 
quite as difficult — wear one. 


“ Dora. Then we are all to learn dressmaking, 
are we ? 

“Lecturer. Yes; and always to dress your- 
selves beautifully ; not finely, unless on occasion ; 
but then very finely and beautifully too. Also, 
you are to dress as many other people as you 
can ; and to teach them how to dress, if they 
don’t know ; and to consider every ill-dressed 
woman or child whom you see anywhere, as a 
personal disgrace ; and to get at them somehow, 
until everybody is as beautifully dressed as birds. 
. . . Now you needn’t say you can’t, for you 
can and it’s what you were meant to do, always ; 
and to dress your houses and your gardens too.” 

Ruth closed the book and went to work at the 
blue serge sleeves. 


IN THE WAY 


187 


“ We shall certainly not get this dress done in 
a week,” she said, laughing, “if I stop to read 
to you any more, for you don’t work while I 
read.” Ellen Amelia laughed and took up an- 
other hook, but her mind was on the reading. 

“Miss Benedict, do you really mean you think 
everybody — do you think I could dress well, and 
— that other thing — how could I dress other peo- 
ple ? I don’t understand it at all. That book 
reads something like the Bible, but the Bible 
says just the other thing. I’ve had it dinged 
into my ears ever since I was three, and cried 
because my apron had a patch of another color 
right in front. I know it by heart : ‘ Whose 
adorning, let it not be of the outward adorning, 
of the wearing of gold and plaiting the hair.’ ” 

“ But, my dear, Mr. Ruskin says nothing op- 
posed to that. He does not say you are to adorn 
yourself, or wear costly apparel or jewels, nor, in 
short, to be showy ; but simply to make yourself 
a pleasant object to look upon, so that your 
presence will soothe others. There is no virtue 
in an ugly thing. The Bible says, ‘ He hath 
made all things beautiful in their season.’ Then 
don’t you remember all about Christ’s garments? 
They were not royal, such as an earthly king 
would have worn, trimmed with ermine and 
rich gold embroidery, and made of velvets and 
silks and costly furs. But do you not remember 


i88 


IN THE WAY 


how the seamless coat he wore was so good and 
fine that the soldiers would not divide it but 
cast lots for it instead ? It has always seemed to 
me that Jesus would have worn nothing gay or 
fine to attract attention, but I think the wool 
was soft and firm and fine, and the color quiet. 
He was not rich, nor would he have spent his 
money for princely robes if he had been, for 
they were not fitting for his work then ; but I do 
not think it is irreverent to think that Jesus se- 
lected what he wore with good taste and good 
sense. The highest ideal of dress that is given 
in the Bible is the robe of righteousness and 
the pure white robe that we shall wear in 
heaven. The Bible seems to hold up simplicity 
as an ideal of dress and purity. Ellen, may I 
ask you a question ? I am anxious to know its 
answer. Do you belong to Jesus? Are you try- 
ing to follow him in everything?” 

The question was a quiet one, spoken in a 
matter-of-fact tone, and the preceding name 
“ Ellen ” sounded sweet to the girl’s ears. She 
had been accustomed to hearing the two names 
run into one, and, indeed, had been proud of her 
double name as something high-sounding, but 
this quiet, dignified “ Ellen,” had a cultured 
sound far beyond the high-flown style she had 
been cultivating all her life. She liked it, and 
was pleased to be called so. It was the first 


IN THE WAY 


189 

time Miss Benedict had called her by her first 
name. But the question itself was embarrass- 
ing. She had never been asked this before in 
her life but once. The old white-haired minis- 
ter, with his severe countenance, had come up to 
herself and three other girls as they stood chat- 
tering together at the back of the church after 
service, and said in a kindly, but very grown-up 
tone, “ Little girls, have you entered the ark of 
safety ? ” They had been frightened, and had 
answered “ I don’t know,” and one of them from 
sheer embarrassment had giggled, because she 
did not know what else to do, and the old man 
had sighed and gone on his way, feeling that he 
had done his duty, and the youthful heart was 
prone to wickedness. Neither father nor mother 
had ever said to her, “ Daughter, will you give 
your heart to Jesus now?” They had taught 
her the words of the Bible and some of the 
severe side of the meaning, but had not thought 
anything more necessary, or else had failed in 
courage to do more. 

And now, Ellen Amelia, at sixteen, remem- 
bered the scared little group of children huddled 
together and the old minister towering above 
them with his question, and giggled and made 
the same answer, “I don’t know.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


HE dress was not finished that day. There 



was too much talking to be done. Ellen 
Amelia went home at dusk with her two little 
books of Ruskin, and a good many new 
thoughts. She had developed in some measure, 
be it ever so slightly, during that day, for she 
saw the sunset. For the first time in her life, 
really, she saw a sunset and realized that it was 
one, and was beautiful, and that God made it, 
and that he made it for her as much as for any 
one else. The day was cold, and as she started 
away from Ruth’s she could see the great glow- 
ing disk of the sun just slipping down behind 
the long stretch of bare young trees which 
etched themselves against the sky for a mile or 
two away upon the horizon at her right. She 
watched the sun drop and the fire-red glory flame 
up and over the horizon, and then catching the 
bits of clouds, turn them from amber to gold, 
from violet to purple, from rose to the loveliest 
blush pink, and all set out by the fine lines of 
the delicate fringe of trees. She saw for the 
first time the shade of blue on the distant hills, 
and wondered that colors had existed before for 


IN THE WAY 


191 

her merely in dress goods and ribbons. She 
felt uplifted and happier, and then she wondered 
again how she should answer that last question 
of Miss Benedict’s, for she had promised to bring 
her an answer the next time she came. 

Her mother looked at her curiously and asked 
for the new dress, and when she found it was not 
yet completed said : “ Humph ! Just as I s’posed. 
You can’t expect two young girls to get together 
and bone right down to work. You’ve dawdled 
half your time away, I suppose. I should think 
two people with two good pairs of hands and 
nothin’ in the wide world to do from early 
mornin’ to dusk at night, could have got one 
dress done and hung up if they was smart and 
knew what they was about. What’s that you’ve 
got? A book? Well, you just tell your Miss 
Benedic’ that I don’t thank her for lending you 
any more books. I’m about crazy now with 
your everlastin’ readin’. For pity sake, don’t 
set down now to read ! Here, take off your sack 
and dish up supper. When is your dress to get 
done? That’s what I should like to know.” 

The sharp words brought back the disagree- 
able expression to Ellen Amelia’s face, and made 
her wish to return to the lovely home where the 
gate of so many new worlds had seemed to open 
to her that day, and to make her feel that she 
could almost be willing to try to live an ideal 


192 


IN THK WAY 


life even in her own home unchanged. She 
laid down the new books with a sigh, and went 
to do her mother’s bidding. And she is not the 
first one who has found life, when one descends 
from a mountain, rather tame and spiritless. 
Nevertheless is it not a good thing, and a thing 
to be desired, to have been upon the mountain ? 

When the work was out of the way Ellen 
Amelia settled herself with great zest to the 
reading of her new books, and for a solid half- 
hour she applied herself with all her might to 
gain an interest in what she was reading. It 
was all very wonderful reading, but she seemed 
not to understand quite so well as when Miss 
Benedict had read it aloud to her, and besides 
there was so much to be thought about that one 
could not go far at once. It did not hold the 
interest of the untrained reader half so well as 
did “ Cyril Athol’s Grief,” and in despair she 
got out her paper and read over a chapter of 
that. There seemed, however, to have come a 
staleness over this delightful story since she last 
read it two days ago. She put it away in dis- 
gust and went to bed, wondering what was 
worth while in life anyway, and lay awake a 
long time to think over that last serious ques- 
tion. Did she belong to Jesus? She had 
always felt a great revereuce and awe for him, 
but, after serious thinking, she decided that she 


IN THK WAY 


193 


did not belong to him, nor love him. She was 
more afraid of him than anything else. Well, 
if that was so, whom did she belong to ? She 
shuddered at this thought and tried to turn over 
and go to sleep, but it would not go away. Al- 
together Ellen Amelia was glad when morning 
came and she could get up and do something. 
Thinking was hard work — unless it was dream- 
ing. She was to go that afternoon again to 
work on the dress, and she had promised to 
answer that question definitely after thinking 
it over. It seemed strange now to her that she 
had not been able to say at once whether she 
belonged to Christ or not. Now she dreaded to 
tell Miss Benedict the real answer. 

The dress was farther on its way than when 
she left it the night before, for the head dress- 
maker had been working. Ruth met her gayly 
with chat about the dress, and Ellen Amelia’s 
trepidation concerning the solemn talk she ex- 
pected to have, had almost been forgotten when 
Ruth finally came around to the question again 
as sweetly and naturally as if she had been ask- 
ing if Ellen Amelia wished her sleeves large or 
small. 

“ And what about my question, Ellen ? Did 
you find out that you belong to Jesus or not ? ” 

After a long pause came Ellen Amelia’s slow, 
hesitating, “ No.” 

N 


194 


IN THK WAY 


“ Well, then, dear, I have one more question 
to ask : Will you ? ” 

The young girl did not answer. 

“ You would, Ellen, if you once knew him. 
You could not help it. You love beautiful 
things and he is most beautiful of all. If I mis- 
take not you are very fond of romance. You 
could not find more of it than in his life. You 
are a loving-hearted girl. Look how easily you 
have given me your love and confidence, me an 
utter stranger.” 

“ Oh, but,” said Ellen Amelia, her face all 
eagerness, “you are so good and lovely, and you 
were so good to me right away. You made me 
feel as if you loved me.” 

“ Well, but Ellen, he loves you more than any 
earthly being ever could. He has been waiting 
for you to give him your love for long years. 
He has called you many times.” 

Joseph Benedict was in his room just around a 
little turn in the hallway. He often came to 
his room now to lie on that couch and read some 
of the interesting books his sister had placed 
there. He had fallen into the habit of the 
house, of leaving his door open. It was such a 
cheery house now that they could not any of 
them bear to cut one corner of it off for a time 
from the rest by a closed door unless it was 
necessary. He was weary from extra heavy 


IN THE WAY 


195 


work they had been doing in the morning. He 
heard his sister’s voice, low and clear, and could 
hear the words she was speaking. He knew 
that Haskins girl was in the sewing room with 
Ruth and that she was doing her some good 
turn, but he had paid little attention to what 
was going on. Now he heard his sister’s plead- 
ing tones and he could but listen for the answers 
which came so softly that he could not tell 
whether they were of assent or not. It was 
strange to him that he should care to have Ellen 
Amelia Haskins say or do anything, but he 
really felt quite out of patience with her for not 
consenting to what his sister put before her. It 
seemed to him a natural thing that she should 
do so. As to applying the words to himself 
just then it never occurred to him. He was in- 
terested to have Ruth satisfied, and to have that 
troubled note dropped from her voice. He went 
off into meditation of what Ruth was, and all 
that she had done for them since she came into 
their home. Pretty soon he heard her voice 
again as clear as before. 

“ I couldn’t live without Jesus Christ, Ellen,” 
she was saying. “ He is my very dearest, most 
intimate friend. He would be just such a friend 
to you. You can ask him about everything. 
You can talk to him about everything, and be 
sure of his sympathy, and sometimes when I 


196 


IN THE WAY 


come to the hard places in my life it has seemed 
to me I could almost hear his voice telling me 
what to do. I wish you would take him for your 
friend. It is very easy. I want everybody I love 
to know him.” 

Joseph did not hear any more that afternoon. 
Sally came up for some direction and interrupted 
the conversation, and when she went down she 
closed the sewing-room door, so he did not know 
the result of the talk. He lay there wondering, 
trying to imagine what the Haskins girl would 
answer, trying vainly to make an answer that he 
felt would satisfy Ruth. Once he thought of 
his sister’s last sentence, “ I want everybody I 
love to know him,” and wondered vaguely if she 
ever wanted it for him, and felt sure if she asked 
him some such question he would at least try to 
frame such an answer as would keep her from 
being troubled about him. What the answer 
might involve otherwise than the mere giving of 
it he did not stop to ask. It was enough that 
Ruth wanted it. 

Several times that evening he found himself 
almost on the point of asking Ruth how that 
talk of hers with that stubborn Haskins girl 
came out, and then he would remember sud- 
denly what had been the subject of the conver- 
sation and would stop and look embarrassed. 
He saw too a troubled look in Ruth’s eyes, and 


IN THE WAY 


197 


rightly guessed she was thinking of the young 
girl, and was troubled over some unmade de- 
cision. Of course Joseph had understood in a 
vague way that Ruth was trying to persuade 
Ellen Amelia to become a Christian. He had 
heard sermons enough to understand the lan- 
guage. But he supposed in a general way that 
there must be some special need for this urgency 
in the case of Miss Haskins. She must be under 
some great temptation or danger and Ruth was 
trying, as her Sunday-school teacher, to guard 
her against it. He knew nothing whatever of 
personal religion himself and cared less, but he 
was willing to try to help a young girl, espe- 
cially if his sister’s desire was in that direction. 
He would sooner have bitten off his tongue than 
speak to Ruth on such a subject ; he was not 
familiar enough with her for it, but he made up 
his mind that if he ever had a chance to shield 
that Haskins girl and persuade her to give up 
any dangerous amusement, or whatever it was 
that Ruth saw she was in peril from, he would 
do it. 

It was not unlike him then, after such thought, 
to follow his impulse the next evening when he 
met her returning from his sister’s as it was 
growing dark, and carrying a large package, to 
turn and taking the bundle from her, to walk 
back to the village with her. Ellen Amelia was 


198 


IN THE WAY 


utterly astonished. Joseph was not the kind of 
young man who had shown himself fond of 
offering attentions to young girls, and what 
little attention he had bestowed had never come 
in her direction. Her delight at having so un- 
expected an escort caused her to be a little silly. 
There were so many stories during last year’s 
serials about young men who had suddenly de- 
veloped a liking for a lady that it was impossi- 
ble not to remember some of them now. She 
proceeded to giggle a good deal and make a few 
flat remarks about the moon. Perhaps she could 
not have chosen a topic more suited to dis- 
gust Joseph had his mind been w^holly occupied 
with what she was saying. But the evening be- 
fore he and his brother and sister had been read- 
ing together a wonderful poem about the moon- 
light, and they had discussed it at length. His 
memory was full of magnificent phrases which 
his rapidly awakening intellect was beginning 
to appreciate, and the contrast must have been 
painful. Perhaps her remarks on the moonlight 
may have hastened his purpose in what he had 
to say. Certainly a wiser than himself was 
guiding his words, for he meditated not on what 
he said, and he, who knew not Christ, was bear- 
ing a message for him that night. 

“ Miss Ellen,” he began ; he remembered hear- 
ing his sister call her that and it pleased him as 


IN THE WAY 


199 


being a dignified way to address her. He had 
no wish to make a comrade of her except in so 
far as it was necessary in order to accomplish 
his purpose, which then was to please his sister 
and help her gain her point with Ellen Amelia. 
“ Miss Ellen, my sister is very much troubled 
about you. I happened to overhear a few words 
of what she said to you yesterday, and I can 
see by her face she feels pretty bad that you 
won’t do as she wants you to.” He began to 
hesitate for words now. Just what was it he was 
going to ask her to do, and how did people ask 
such things of others? He tried to remember 
some of his sister’s overheard phrases, but they 
had nearly all escaped. “She told you it wasn’t 
hard to do,” he went on blindly ; “ and it seems 
to me you might be willing to do it.” He 
stopped. He wanted to tell her that she ought 
to be ashamed of herself to make such a girl as 
his sister feel badly about anything in the 
world ; that she wasn’t worth speaking of in the 
same day with her, and a few like sentences ; 
but they did not sound entirely polite and he 
was trying to be polite these days to please his 
sister. Besides, if he said such things he would 
fail of his purpose. 

But Ellen Amelia was struck dumb with 
amazement. Could this be Joseph Benedict, 
talking religion to her? What in the world 


200 


IN THE WAY 


had come over him ? Then her words came to 
her. 

“ Why don’t you do it yourself, Joe Benedict, 
if you think it’s so easy? She thinks a heap 
sight more about your being a Christian than 
she ever did about me. And she is praying and 
praying for you, I know, for she told me she had 
some ‘very specials’ that she prayed for every 
little while all day. I knew straight-off you and 
Dave was them. If I was you with her right there 
in the house with me all the time, I’d do it. You 
better not talk to me ; you don’t know how hard 
it would be for me, nor how bad I want to do it 
either.” 

“ Me ! ” said Joseph, stopping short in the 
moonlit road and looking down at the girl. 
“Me !” 

The new dress in the crackly paper under 
Joseph Benedict’s arm was forgotten. Ellen 
Amelia’s eyes were full of tears, and Ellen 
Amelia Haskins was not a girl who easily cried 
“ before folks.” Joseph saw the tears and felt 
sorry for her. There was something pleasant as 
well as astonishing in the message that had been 
brought to his soul. 

“ Why of course, you. I guess if it’s for me 
it’s for you too. We’ve both been taught well 
enough to know that, haven’t we ? If yon heard 
what she said yesterday you know that it is for 


IN THE WAY 


201 


you too. He died for you all alone by yourself, 
just the same as he died for me all alone by 
myself. You’ve got a call to answer for as well 
as 1.” 

Joseph was honest. He did not feel that he 
could try to persuade any one to do a thing he 
was not willing to do himself. It wouldn’t be 
fair. He had always been that way. If he 
wanted to play a prank with a pin on another 
boy, he would first try it himself to see if he 
could bear it ; then he would get his fun out of 
the other boy. Then he felt he had a right to 
it. He turned to walk on, but he thought of 
Ruth again, and something too in the miserable 
little longing face of Ellen Amelia touched him. 
He looked down at her again. 

“ I’ll tell you what it is. Miss Ellen,” he said 
gravely and slowly, as if he were doing some- 
thing very hard which he didn’t know how to do 
and yet which he meant to do to the best of his 
ability, “ we’ll make a bargain. We won’t 
either of us disappoint her. If you’ll do it, I 
will. I don’t know a thing about the business, 
but I’m willing to learn, if you will. I’ll agree 
to do my best at it.” 

“All right,” said Ellen Amelia after a pause ; 
“I’ll do it.” 

And then they went home. 

Joseph, as he walked back to the farm and 


202 


IN THE WAY 


looked Up to the clear face of the moon, won- 
dered what he had done and how he was going 
to keep his promise. And the Lord was prepar- 
ing ways all about him for his feet that he knew 
not of. 


CHAPTER XV 

GUISE CLIFTON stood by the front win- 



' dow of the parsonage, looking out, a dis- 
contented curl on her lip. It was plain that she 
did not like Summerton. 

“ Mamma, Pm sure I don’t see why you ever 
consented to come here,” she said for the fortieth 
time. “It is the dullest, stupidest old place I 
ever heard of. You are just burying me. Where 
shall I have any society I’d like to know? You 
needn’t think I’m going to fall in love with that 
paragon of a Miss Benedict of Rob’s. He is 
ridiculous. He always was. If we had known 
he had such an admiration here we needn’t have 
moved heaven and earth and spoiled all our 
own plans to come to this old hole and make a 
home for him. If he keeps on like this he will 
soon have one without our assistance.” 

“ Louise ! ” said her mother severely. She 
was a quiet, sad little woman with a white, 
pensive, refined face. Her daughter Louise had 
always been too much for her. She had never 
quite understood her. 

“ Well, mamma, indeed I can’t help it. I 
wonder what you would have done shut up in 


204 


IN THE WAY 


such a place as this at my time of life. You 
were one of the belles of New York society. 
Why, there won’t be a man worth looking at in 
this place.” 

“ Louise ! ” said her mother again in distress. 
“You shock me ! Are you reduced to the state 
that there is nothing worth living for in the 
world without a young man ? It strikes me that 
that is a very bold and immodest way of talking 
for a young girl. If your father were here to hear 
you say such a thing as that I don’t know what 
he would do.” 

“ Well now, mamma, I didn’t mean anything 
so terrible. I only meant that there isn’t much 
fun in the world without a young man, at least 
for a girl like me. You would lift up your 
hands in horror at the thought of my going any- 
where without an escort. I can’t go skating — I 
suppose they will condescend to have that much 
like the rest of the world in this horrid place. 
You know you wouldn’t let me go skating alone, 
or sledding. As for parties and evening entertain- 
ments, it isn’t likely there will be any of those, 
so you need not worry in that line. But really, 
it will be too stupid for anything.” 

“ Daughter, you talk as if you cared for noth- 
ing but parties and the like. Have you for- 
gotten your brother? He surely will be all the 
escort you will need.” 


IN THE WAY 


205 


Louise laughed a clear, mocking laugh. “ Rob ! 
Fancy Rob, the dignified minister that he has 
become, going skating with his sister ! Why, I 
presume that paragon of his doesn’t believe in 
skating. I really never heard him say, but I 
suppose she doesn’t from some remarks I’ve 
heard him make about her. Mother, you don’t 
know it, but Rob has become as stupid as Sum- 
merton. He doesn’t believe in doing this, and 
he thinks that is wicked, until I’m sick of talk- 
ing to him. I tried to coax him to take me in 
town next Saturday to the matinee^ and don’t 
you believe he told me he did not go to matintes 
any more, that he felt there was a great deal of 
harm done to young people by them and he 
hoped I would give them up ; and he further- 
more informed me that if I would like to look 
into the subject he had several books there I 
might have to study it up and he would help 
me. He handed one to me, and it was called 
‘ Plain Talks About the Theatre,’ and had ‘Ruth 
Benedict ’ written in a pretty little hand across 
the top ; so you see I am not so far wrong in 
thinking he got all his ideas from her.” 

“ Louise, I must insist that you do not speak so 
disrespectfully of your brother. Remember his 
holy office, if you have no regard for him. He 
doubtless borrowed the book you speak of from 
Miss Benedict ; but as to his ideas on the subject 


2o6 


IN THE WAY 


of theatre-going, he changed them long ago, 
just about the time of that summer he spent at 
the seaside, you remember. I know he told me 
at the time, and I thought it was very fitting for 
a man who was to be a clergyman to feel as he 
felt. I was highly gratified and so was yoiir 
father. Of course it was not necessary for you 
to be guided by your brother’s views so long as 
you were living in New York and were in your 
own society and your father’s home; but re- 
member that you are under your brother’s roof 
now and a part of his family, and some deference 
is due to his views. In his position he could not 
well afford to feel otherwise than he does. I 
trust that you will not bring your personal 
views out for the hearing of other people. It 
might hurt your brother seriously.” 

“Indeed, mamma, I have no idea of being 
muzzled. I did not want to come here at all, 
and did all I could to prevent it. Rob would 
have it, and now he may take the consequences. 
I shall not try to make myself agreeable to his 
chnrchful of country boors,” and Louise made 
her pretty face into a grotesque twist and pirou- 
etted away from the window, returning just in 
time to look down and meet the gaze of a very 
stylish young man who was very evidently a col- 
lege man visiting his native town on a vacation. 

There was something so patronizing in his 


IN THE WAY 


207 


air, and his very expression said, “You poor 
benighted people, here, see ! I honor you with 
my benign presenee. Be glad that you see me, 
for I shall soon be gone from this plaee again. 
I would not stay here if it eould be helped, but 
as my parents will live here on account of my 
father’s business interests, I cannot help tread- 
ing your streets for a little time ; but I despise 
you all. You, of course, are proud of me, as 
you should be.” This was Alonzo Brummel. 
He was loud-voiced, self-assertive, long-haired, 
walked with the latest English hobble and wore 
the latest style in baggy overcoat, patent leather 
shoes, with his trousers turned up, and with 
stick and tall hat. He stared up at the parson- 
age window with an undeniably impudent stare, 
as much as to say, “ Well ! I declare ! A really 
pretty girl in Summerton, and in the parsonage 
too ! Who in the world can she be ? ” 

And Louise, having much the same feeling 
concerning Summerton and its inhabitants and 
being fully as astonished to see a well-dressed 
young man as he had been to see a pretty girl, I 
am afraid stared back for a moment. Then she 
dropped her eyes and a pretty flush spread over 
her cheek as she turned quickly from the win- 
dow and began playing the piano furiously that 
her mother might not ask the occasion of her 
confusion. 


2o8 


IN THE WAY 


However, it was not long before Alonzo Brum- 
mel contrived to be introduced to Bouise Clifton. 
He was at home for his Thanksgiving vacation, 
and by virtue of some petty excuse had man- 
aged to have it begin four days earlier than most 
of the other students, for he was “lazing” 
through college with as little trouble to himself 
as possible, and trying to get away with as much 
money as he could before the time came for him 
to earn it. His father was a hard-working man, 
proud of his children and very generous to them, 
and he looked upon this son as perfection. 

The fact that a young man of fashionable ap- 
pearance had come upon the scene somewhat 
reconciled Louise Clifton to her present posi- 
tion, at least until after Thanksgiving. She 
consented to be quite gracious toward Ruth 
Benedict, and went with her brother to return 
Ruth’s call, which had been made one day when 
Louise was out with her brother on a long ride. 

But when she saw the lovely home and the 
sweet girl herself, and found that Ruth was, 
presumably, rich and certainly charming in 
every way, her impulsive nature turned straight 
about and fell in love with her at once. She 
quite tortured her brother with her expressions 
of affection all the way home and asked him 
some pointed questions concerning his friendship 
for Ruth which he did not care at all to answer. 


IN THE WAY 


209 


“ Mamma, she’s lovely ! ” she said, bursting 
into the room where her mother sat, on her 
return from this visit. “ I was entirely mis- 
taken. It was all owing to the blue glasses Rob 
will look at every one through that I thought 
her such a poke. She has a beautiful home. It 
is really just a paradise of good taste and artistic 
ability. I never saw anything so pretty in my 
life. She and I will be just cronies. And just 
fancy, mamma, she rides a wheel ! I thought 
she was too straightlaced to live, from what 
Rob said. She is to ride with me to-morrow, if 
the weather continues good. I’m just dying to 
meet those two brothers of hers. They say she 
has given up* a lovely home and lots of friends 
where she has always lived just to come here and 
civilize them. I think I will help her. Rob is 
always at me to do some missionary work, but I 
don’t fancy dirty-faced little girls with sticky 
fingers always bringing you bunches of dande- 
lions and expecting you to kiss them and get 
dandelion milk over your new gray kid gloves. 
I shall never forget the only Sunday I ever tried 
at the mission in New York, and I don’t want to 
do anything like it again. But this would be 
perfectly lovely — two young men. Miss Brum- 
mel said they were real nice fellows. I could 
help her I’m sure. I suppose she wants to get 
them taught manners and be so that they can go 


210 


IN THE WAY 


into society. I should enjoy it They wouldn’t 
be like little mission-school girls.” 

“ No, they would hardly bring you wilted 
dandelions nor expect you to kiss them,” said 
her brother, who had been listening with increas- 
ing disgust and anger to his sister’s gushing 
words. “ Mother, I wish you would try to make 
Touise understand that such talk is offensive in 
the extreme from a young woman. I fancy there 
will be no danger of her undertaking a mission 
with either David or Joseph Benedict when she 
has once seen them. They will be much more 
likely to look upon her as a foolish girl than as 
a helper if she talks in as silly a vein as she has 
been talking this afternoon.” Tfie minister’s 
nerves had been tried to their utmost by his 
sister’s flippancy. “And, by the way, mother,” 
he went on, “ young Brummel is no fit compan- 
ion for Louise. I don’t like his look, and wish 
she would keep away from him.” 

Then the minister settled to his evening pa- 
per, and mother and daughter gave one another 
a frightened, rather guilty glance, as Louise left 
the room. The mother spent a sleepless night 
afterward, wondering if she had done wrong to 
consent to her daughter’s plans, and saying over 
and over again to herself, “It is too late to 
change anything now, and there will not be any 
harm done if he does not know.” 


IN THE WAY 


2II 


The fact about which she was worrying was 
this : Alonzo Bruminel had not been slow in fol- 
lowing up his acquaintance with Louise Clifton. 
He was to be at home not much more than a 
week, and he meant to have all the fun out of it 
he could, in that dull town. His sister Geor- 
giana was bribed to assist him, and they had 
called back and forth several times and planned 
a walk and a ride. It had also come about that 
Miss Louise had mentioned her disappointment 
with regard to the matinke to be held in the 
city about forty miles distant the day before 
Thanksgiving. Young Brummel had at once 
taken up with this and planned a party consist- 
ing of his sister and himself and Miss Clifton to 
attend that matinke. It fell in exactly with his 
ideas of a good time. He said the play was a 
“ jolly ” one and “ no end of fun.” Louise, 
however, having been brought up with strict 
ideas with regard to chaperones, had insisted 
that her mother should be one of the party. 
After much persuasion Mrs. Clifton had con- 
sented to accompany them. She did it fearfully 
and with many compunctions, for she knew her 
son would object most seriously ; but she insisted 
that it should be kept strictly a secret, telling 
Louise to explain to the Brummels that her son’s 
position made him feel that he would rather not 
have his family attend such places of amuse- 


212 


IN THE WAY 


ment. She felt herself very lenient toward such 
things. Then too Louise must have some 
amusement. Robert could not expect her to 
give up all her girlhood. So she had arranged 
to go with Louise to the city, ostensibly to do 
some shopping, and told her son that they would 
not return until the late train. Of course the 
minister had no suspicions, and would not have 
pried into his mother’s affairs if he had. 

Meantime the friendship between Ruth Bene- 
dict and Louise Clifton was progressing. The 
minister had said in a low, troubled tone during 
one of the few talks he had with Ruth alone, 
“ My sister needs your help. Miss Benedict. She 
is not a Christian. You will understand her, I 
feel sure, and see just what she needs,” and then 
he had gone on his way, and Ruth had studied 
the bright pretty young girl and understood. 

They took their bicycle ride together. As 
they passed the Brummel home Alonzo was 
lounging in the front window smoking and 
reading. He sat up very straight and bowed to 
Louise, but stared interestedly at Ruth. He had 
not seen her before. He decided that her style 
was ahead of Miss Clifton’s and he would try to 
get acquainted with her at once. She might be 
more worth while than the minister’s sister. 
She was well enough for fun, but one liked a 
variety. Of course he had heard of Ruth Bene- 


IN THE WAY 213 

diet, but had paid little attention to the accounts 
of her till now. 

It was also new to him that Miss Clifton rode 
a wheel. He would have one for himself sent 
lip from the city immediately, as his own was at 
college, he not having thought it worth while to 
bring it home with him for so short a time. He 
would have a ride with Miss Clifton and perhaps 
with the other girl as well. 

Summerton stared as it rushed to its doors and 
windows to behold the minister’s sister and the 
new Benedict girl flying by. They had sup- 
posed that the Benedict girl had had lesson 
enough in the spraining of her ankle never to 
mount the diabolical machine she called a bicy- 
cle again, but here she was sitting up as straight 
and smiling and composed as could be. Mother 
Haskins, as she looked, sniffed, in spite of the 
beautiful new dress which hung upstairs in 
Ellen Amelia’s closet ; yes and in spite of the 
fact that this strange benefactress had evolved 
a dainty little hat of blue serge with rolled, 
stitched brim, and soft crown, and no expense 
except two cheap black wings. It not only 
was the most becoming and plainest, neatest hat 
Ellen Amelia ever had, besides being exceed- 
ingly stylish (which latter point Mother Haskins 
did not know), but also saved the expense and 
trouble of getting Ellen Amelia something new 


214 


IN THE WAY 


for her head, or arguing her into wearing the 
old last winter’s one. Mother Haskins was very 
much afraid that Ellen Amelia’s next ambition 
would be a bicycle. As for the minister’s sister, 
Mrs. Haskins was scandalized. The minister 
ought to be told at once, and she would surely 
make it her business to do so were it not for the 
darning that must be finished that afternoon. 
Besides, she dreaded making the first call on the 
minister’s grand little mother. So she retired 
to her darning, predicting dire trouble for the 
two innocent riders before the afternoon was 
over, and was surprised and truly sorry to see 
them return perhaps two hours later with smil- 
ing rosy faces, looking as if they had but just 
started out. 

It was that very evening that Alonzo Brum- 
mel, upon pretext of a very rusty acquaintance 
with Joseph Benedict and some business of ques- 
tionable importance with David, called at the 
Benedict farm. He received his introduction to 
Ruth and before the evening was over endeav- 
ored to make her acquaintance more intimately, 
but found it was not an easy thing to do. Ruth, 
though she was usually sunny and bright and 
always on the lookout for winning people for the 
sake of the good it might do, had a great dislike 
for a certain class of young men with a bold 
stare and an ease before strangers which sat 


IN THE WAY 


215 


Upon their youthful shoulders all too easily. 
Alonzo Brummel was one of these. He made 
her feel uncomfortable, as if in the presence of 
something ugly, she did not exactly know why. 
She was not wise enough in the world to under- 
stand that the bold stare he gave at a pretty girl 
told more than she could read of his knowledge 
of the world and its evils. She only knew she 
felt uncomfortable and wished to get away from 
him. Therefore she declined rather frigidly 
when he proposed a bicycle ride in her company, 
saying she had other duties at the time he 
named, and when he proposed another time she 
said firmly that he must excuse her. 

David was exceedingly glad of his sister’s dis- 
cernment. He did not like young Brummel. 
Though he had been shut up in this small town 
all his life, with only occasional visits to the 
neighboring city, still he knew the signs of the 
hard young face better than some who have been 
among wickedness always. Besides, the city is 
not the only place where wickedness lurks in 
hidden corners, and a young man with eyes and 
a pure heart cannot go through any corner of 
the world without seeing the signs of sin. 

Alonzo Brummel went home trying to make 
up his mind whether it would be worth his 
while to pretend to be very religious during the 
few days left him of his vacation, in order to 


2i6 


IN THE WAY 


please this rather extraordinary Benedict girl, 
and finally decided it would be much easier just 
to have a good time with merry little Louise 
Clifton. She was much more to his mind after 
all. 

Ruth at that moment on her knees was add- 
ing Louise Clifton to her list of those she prayed 
for most earnestly. As she prayed she remem- 
bered the bow between the girl and the young 
man that afternoon and the few words the gay 
young girl had said about him, and she added a 
petition that Louise might be delivered from 
any danger that might come to her through 
Alonzo Brummel. 


CHAPTER XVI 


OUISE CLIFTON was taking lunch with 



/ Ruth Benedict. It had been no part of 
Ruth’s plan to have her brothers come in con- 
tact with her new friend any more than neces- 
sary, for she did not think that Louise would be 
a help in influencing them for good. There 
were girls she could think of who would help 
wonderfully and whom she felt sure they would 
like, but Louise was like a dangerous bit of some 
combustible material. Ruth never knew what 
she would do next. There was a bright side, 
and a sweet, lovable side, as well as a gay one, to 
her character. To Ruth she had shown this 
principally, though there had been a glimmer 
now and then of daring; but it remained for 
David Benedict to bring out a new phase of her 
disposition. 

David and Joseph were to be away all day, as 
was often the case when they had some business 
connected with the sale of cattle in some village 
not far away. Ruth usually arranged to have 
some one with her on these days to lunch, for 
she did not wish to bring her outside missionary 
work in to spoil their home life unless she felt 


217 


2i8 


IN THK WAY 


the guests were such as would be pleasant to her 
brothers. So Louise had been invited for Tues- 
day. The young men had .both started away 
from the house early, as they had expected to 
do, David to West Winterton and Joseph in the 
opposite direction. Louise arrived at the hour 
appointed and the two girls took a ride together 
returning home about lunch time, where to her 
surprise Ruth found her brother David. He had 
been disappointed in seeing the man with whom 
he was to transact his business, he having been 
called away suddenly by the illness of a relative, 
and thus David came home earlier. Ruth felt a 
little troubled. She feared lest her brother 
might not enjoy having this gay, rather frivo- 
lous, and certainly very stylish young woman 
sitting opposite to him at the table. If David 
should freeze up and be stiff and Louise should 
take a turn of trying to shock him, Ruth felt 
that there would be more harm done than any 
good her endeavors to help Louise might have 
done. Indeed she had felt rather discouraged 
about the minister’s sister since their morning 
spent together. Louise, with her impulsive girl- 
nature had fallen very much in love with Ruth, 
and gushed a great deal over her, but still she 
laughed at anything grave she might try to say, 
and persisted in making herself out to be shock- 
ingly wicked, in a bright interesting kind of 


IN THE WAY 


219 


way. She would talk of her brother in a mock- 
ing strain, laughing at his country church and 
making merry over the people. Ruth dreaded 
to have David hear her talk so. What would 
he think of the minister’s religion if it could 
touch his own sister no further than to provoke 
fun? She flew to her refuge and sent up a peti- 
tion for help and then remembered that the Lord 
was guiding and that no harm could come where 
he was and tried not to worry any more about 
it. So David was introduced to Louise Clifton 
and sat down in the library for a few minutes 
talk before lunch, and behold ! 

Louise shone forth in a new light. Her face 
was as full of expression as a kaleidoscope. In 
spite of her silly talk about helping those Bene- 
dict boys she had meant what she said, and was 
truly interested in doing anything to elevate 
them. It became doubly interesting also when 
she found this one so tall and really handsome. 
He could talk so well too, and when he smiled, 
that grave face of his and those great deep blue 
eyes lit up as if a hidden lamp were suddenly 
lighted behind them and shone through his 
whole face. He was a new kind of young man 
to Louise, and she could not help liking him. 
And when Louise Clifton liked any one she 
could always win a liking for herself. It was 
not deceit, nor theatricals which caused her to 


220 


IN THE WAY 


SO change her behavior. It was perhaps an in- 
stinctive consciousness of what would please the 
one with whom she was talking, and the natural 
impulse of kindness. She did not mean to act a 
part. Perhaps, if the truth might be known, 
David appealed to the highest and best that 
there was in her nature and she immediately 
brought it forth. Certainly no girl could have 
been sweeter or shyer or more modest than was 
Louise Clifton. She did not throw herself at 
the young man and make him take notice of 
her, neither did she patronize him and try to 
make talk. She simply and pleasantly asked 
him questions about Summerton and answered 
his. She told one or two incidents that had 
occurred during their ride, and when she looked 
up and caught his eye her face flushed a pretty 
shy pink and she looked down again as though 
she had been making herself too prominent. 
David thought her truly the brightest, prettiest, 
sweetest bit of humanity, always barring his sis- 
ter, he had ever looked upon, and Louise found 
herself wondering in what way she could pos- 
sibly help this young man. He seemed to be 
at ease in talking with a stranger, and not to 
murder the English language when he spoke. 
He certainly could not be very wicked, for his 
mouth had too clean a cut and Arm a look for 
that — though it must be confessed Louise was 


IN THK WAY 


221 


hardly as yet a good judge of morality in a man ; 
if he wore faultless clothes and could dance and 
wait upon her gracefully, it was all she asked as 
yet. 

Her own moral and intellectual judgment had 
hardly been as well developed as her broth- 
er’s, nor as much so as it would have been had 
her father lived. But there was something new 
to her, an independent dignity, in David, and 
she was interested. She would certainly do all 
in her power to help him if there was anything 
she could do, she told herself ; and meantime 
she apparently could not seem other than sim- 
ple and sweet and childlike in his presence, per- 
haps because David himself was so simply natural 
and frank and in earnest in all he did and said. 
After lunch he lingered in the house for nearly 
an hour and let Miss Clifton show him about a 
laughable little game she had brought over with 
her, and Ruth watched her brother in surprise 
mingled with a wonder as to what the outcome 
was to be of this new acquaintance. Could it 
be possible that these two, whom she had thought 
so opposite to one another in everything, were 
meant to help each other ? Truly the ways of 
God were past finding out, but she would wait 
and trust him, for he knew the way he took and 
she was walking with him. 

Louise liked to provoke that grave face to a 


222 


IN THE WAY 


smile. It was something new to watch the play 
of light that came across David’s face, and when 
he at last got up and said he must go to his work, 
she turned to Ruth with her old, saucy smile 
again and said : “ Your brother is just as nice in 
his way as you are in yours. Now let’s have 
that music.” And Ruth could never guess from 
her actions whether her guest regretted her 
brother’s going or not. So much had Louise 
Clifton’s home training been worth. Ruth could 
but admire her for the frank, pleasant way in 
which she spoke about her brother, and then 
dropped the subject. There was nothing of the 
foolishness in her speech now that there had 
been concerning Alonzo Brummel. Nevertheless 
Ruth decided that she would not take the re- 
sponsibility yet of actually planning to bring 
these two together again. If the Lord, who was 
guiding, saw this best he would do it, and he 
might not want them together again. Ruth 
could not see the way clear before her, and there- 
fore she did not have to act. It was not long 
however before her trust was rewarded with 
being allowed to see something of God’s plan 
and understand a little of the various influences 
that had been at work. 

Louise Clifton leaned back in the car and 
breathed a sigh of relief. She and her mother 


IN THE WAY 


223 


were off to the city for their day of shopping, 
and nothing had been discovered by her brother. 
She had been almost certain something would 
turn up to spoil her pleasure. Young Mr. Brum- 
mel and his sister were to come on the noon 
train and meet them at an appointed place. 
Louise reflected with joy that she was to have 
one day of doing as she pleased, and she chat- 
tered pleasantly to her mother and tried to 
smooth the anxious look from her face. Mrs. 
Clifton was not quite sure that she was doing 
altogether as her dead husband would have liked 
her to do. She did not rouse easily from her 
worried little thoughts, and Louise at last began 
to study the passengers. There was a man sit- 
ting two seats up the aisle across from her with 
his face turned to the window. The back of his 
head was handsome, and she could not help ad- 
miring it as her eyes came back several times to 
his broad shoulders and heavy head of hair that 
looked like a sealskin coat, she told herself. By 
and by he turned his face a little, and then 
she saw that it was David Benedict. She was 
pleasantly surprised, and wished he would come 
and occupy the seat in front of them, and as 
they left the car at the city station she tried to 
catch his eye and bow, but David was intent on 
his own business and apparently did not see 
them. 


224 


IN THE WAY 


Louise was disappointed that Mr. Benedict 
had not seen her. He had somehow given her 
a feeling that he looked up to her as a being far 
superior to himself, for whom he felt a sort of 
reverence. This feeling was pleasant to Louise. 
Other men had admired her and told her so ; 
but none had ever given her the impression that 
they thought of her as spiritually above them. 
She had been more a merry companion to others, 
and was as willing to join in any wild prank as 
they had been. Mr. Benedict had taken it for 
granted that a woman who was beautiful, was 
good and above anything wrong or untruthful 
or impure. Louise thought she would always 
like to have him keep this feeling for her. It 
gave her a respect for herself which she had 
never felt before, and she felt she would try a 
little, just a little, to live up to this ideal that 
she seemed to understand David Benedict had 
for women. His sister had been so, and of 
course he saw no reason why she should not 
prove so also. Louise was pleased. 

There was another Summerton traveler that 
morning in the car. He sat directly behind 
Mrs. Clifton and her daughter, and he had a set, 
protruding chin and heavy, uncomfortable eye- 
brows of grizzled gray. He looked the minis- 
ter’s mother and sister over carefully and se- 
verely, shaking his head once and gazing gloom- 


IN THE WAY 


225 


ily out of the window. Deacon Ghatterton did 
not feel particularly pleasant this morning. 
Some investments out West were in doubtful 
condition, and he was going to town to get a 
lawyer to look them up. He did not approve of 
a minister having a mother and sister who looked 
so gay and fashionable. It showed a spiritual 
lack in the minister somewhere. 

Meantime at home various things were going 
on. 

When Ellen Amelia Haskins had entered 
church the first Sunday after her new blue serge 
was completed, she created more of a sensation 
than any stranger that had yet visited Summer- 
ton. To have strangers come to church dressed 
finely and looking pretty was of course an in- 
teresting thing and one to be looked at and re- 
marked upon ; but to have one of their own num- 
ber, who had grown up from babyhood in their 
midst, and who had not even been away for a 
visit of a few weeks, — nor what was more as- 
tounding, even been to the dressmaker, in the 
knowledge of any one present, — suddenly appear 
before their astonished eyes in gown and bonnet 
of faultless style and becomingness undreamed 
of, and with her hair arranged in a way un- 
known to Summerton maidens save as they had 
occasionally observed it in their shopping visits 
to the city, was a thing not to be gotten over 


226 


IN THE WAY 


easily. She seemed to move in a more graceful 
way, and her whole face took on a really pretty 
look. 

“ My land ! ” whispered Eliza Barnes to Mrs. 
Deacon Chatterton, with whom she happened to 
be sitting ; “ who ever dreamed she could be so 
pretty ! ” 

Humph !” said Mrs. Chatterton, as she ob- 
served the advent of Ellen Amelia with disap- 
proval ; “ beauty that can be put on and took off 
ain’t much beauty to my mind,” and she se- 
verely studied the hymn book the remainder of 
the morning, and rigidly refrained from encour- 
aging Ellen Amelia in her pride by looking once 
more in the direction of the Haskins pew. 

The two young men with lowering brows and 
thick protruding lips back by the door, who 
came to church now because there was nothing 
better to do, looked up with interest. Ellen 
Amelia had not been an admiration of theirs 
heretofore, but dressed in this way she seemed 
to have suddenly grown up and to be worth 
while. The Brower boys were always looking 
out for a new girl, and when they had found her 
she usually regretted it if she allowed their 
coarse charms to attract her attention. Hereto- 
fore Ellen Amelia had never been in danger 
through them. They preferred pretty girls, and 
there were plenty of them throughout the 


IN THK WAY 


227 


country who were glad of their acquaintanee, 
for were tl ey not heirs of a great farm and an 
estate of dimensions that varied according to the 
imagination of the speaker? Ed nudged Bill, 
and Bill glowered back at Ed, and nodded and 
whispered, “She’s great! How’d she do it?” 
and after church, when they lingered as was 
their wont, by the door and watched the ont- 
coniers, they sauntered along toward her home 
by her side, and the poor, silly girl’s heart beat 
high with wild excitement. She had never had 
the like happen to her before. She knew they 
were rather wild, to be sure, but they also had the 
name of being worldly wise, and they were young 
men and well-built, and when they tried to 
please-, not altogether bad-looking. Remember, 
Ellen Amelia’s head was full of stories and her 
mind was used to idealizing everybody — except 
perhaps her own immediate home circle, with 
whom she was forced by circumstances to come 
in constant contact. Ellen Amelia minced along 
between Bill and Ed Brower and cast sidelong 
glances to see if the other girls saw her, and 
wondered tremblingly what mother would think 
if she knew, and whether father would disap- 
prove. And then they almost took her breath 
away by a proposition; She was feeling herself 
a Cinderella enough already with her new gown 
and two princes, but with a ball added her head 


228 


IN THE WAY 


was completely turned, and so at her father’s 
gate she giggled out a sort of promise, as much 
of a promise as she dared make, and went in 
blindly to sit down and think what kind of a 
wild delightful whirl the world had gotten into. 
And she forgot completely that she had promised 
but three days before to try to love and serve 
the Ivord Jesus Christ with all her heart and soul 
and strength and to make him the first considera- 
tion of her life. 

When Christians go to sleep then the devil 
thinks he may sleep also, or go awhile to other 
more important places perhaps ; but when some 
Christian gets awake and goes to praying, and 
one and another and another are stirred by this 
one’s prayers to kneel, then does the devil hasten 
back and send a good force of his emissaries to 
the front. There is no time so easy as a young 
Christian’s start to turn him in another direction. 
If you can spoil everything for him then yon 
have him with no more trouble. And so the 
devil, seeing that some good live Christian 
workers had come to Summerton, and that 
things in the sleepy old church were waking up, 
and some souls were asking the way to light, 
concluded to have a ball. A ball was an extraor- 
dinary thing in Summerton. People could 
not remember when there had been such a thing 
before. It happened that Thanksgiving Day was 


IN THE WAY 


229 


the tenth or fiftieth or hundredth anniversary — 
it matters little which — of something or other of 
mild importance in the town, and what more 
fitting than at such a season there should be a 
celebration, and what better for a celebration 
than a ball ? And because it was such a strange, 
new thing for Summerton, and because it was 
in commemoration of some sacred little event, 
people who in general utterly disapproved of 
dancing and frowned upon worldly amusements 
with more than usual vigor, condoned the offense 
of the committee of arrangements, and even 
consented to lend their presence for a time. It 
was more to them as if they were playing at 
having a ball than as if they were to have a real 
one. Of course everybody in the town did not 
feel in this way, and the whole matter was kept 
as quiet as possible so that not until two or 
three days before Thanksgiving did the story 
leak out and get itself talked about. The invita- 
tions had been in the hands of a few, and had 
been given quietly, at first to those they were 
sure of, and afterward where they had occasioned 
much discussion and some bitter words and 
bitterer tears on the part of strict parents and 
greatly longing children. It is needless to say 
that the Brower boys had it in their power to 
invite whom they would. And thus poor Ellen 
Amelia met her first great temptation. 


230 


IN THE WAY 


The ball was to be held in a public hall. It 
had not even the excuse of being strictly private, 
but then it was to be only village people, no 
strangers, and what was the harm ? 

Ellen Amelia Haskins, on the first Sabbath 
afternoon after she had promised to give her life 
to the Lord Jesus Christ, sat herself down to 
look over her wardrobe, and see what it was 
possible to construct out of the accumulations of 
her few years that would answer for a ball dress, 
and wished for the hundredth time that her good 
fairy could waft a wand over her beautiful blue 
serge and change it into a nile-green silk with 
real point lace trimming and Marechal Neil 
roses. 


CHAPTER XVII 


I T was not until the day before Thanksgiving 
that the minister heard about it and knew 
that some of the principal members of his church 
were involved in the arrangements. He sat in 
troubled silence after the messenger who brought 
this unpleasant news had departed, and wondered 
if he should do anything and what he could do. 
He half wished his mother were at home that 
he might consult her, and then remembered that 
his mother would not understand and would 
have no help to offer. A faint color stole into 
his cheek as he realized who was the only helper 
he felt he could find in true sympathy with his 
feelings in all his church ; for while there were 
many good and true members who would frowm 
upon the ball, they would one and all censure 
the ones who had gotten it up and those who 
would attend it so severely that there would be 
no use in asking them to help in any way. 

Later in the afternoon he found his way to 
Ruth Benedict’s home and inquired for her. 
She was in the little music room back of the 
parlor. Joseph had thrown himself down on 
the easy couch by the piano after lunch and 

231 


232 


IN THE WAY 


begged for a song, and she had given him not 
only one but many, bright, funny ones, and gay 
and sad ; and at last as he lay still she ventured 
others in a tenderer tone, some old hymns she 
loved, one or two which gave the invitation to 
Christ ill pleading words, “ O prodigal child, 
come home, come home.” 

There were tears in Joseph’s eyes under those 
closely closed lashes, and he dared not open them 
lest the tears would show themselves. He did 
not understand the feelings that were moving 
him these days, new manliness and courage. 
He knew that he had accepted that invitation to 
come home, and yet he did not feel that he was 
farther than on the threshold of the gateway. 
He would have liked to ask Ruth something 
about the way, and what he should do with his 
new resolutions, but he could not think how to 
put it, and the courage was utterly lacking to 
speak a word of the matter. 

When the knocker sounded through the house 
Ruth turned softly, and seeing her brother as 
she supposed asleep, she quietly drew the heavy 
portiere behind the lighter one of beads, and 
went to meet the visitor. Joseph lay there, not 
asleep, but thinking over his life, and trying to 
form some idea of the future out of the chaos 
he stood in at present. He heard the minister’s 
low, troubled tones, and knew that he was ask- 


IN THE WAY 


233 


ing advice of his sister, and felt that it was fitting 
he should do so. Almost unnoticed the thought 
passed through his mind that the minister and 
his sister were very much alike in a good many 
ways, and ought to enjoy one another’s company ; 
and he was glad that Robert Clifton had come 
there to live to make a pleasant friend for Ruth, 
as well as for the rest of them. But suddenly 
his wandering thoughts stopped, and he listened 
intently to what the minister v/as saying. 

“Yes, Miss Benedict, I’m afraid it will reach 
a good many of our ^^oung people, and hurt them 
the more because it seems it is an unusual thing. 
You know a new thing always has more influence 
than an old one. If they were accustomed to 
having dances here we might hope that one 
more might not do any especial harm, but some 
of the young people who have never tasted the 
charms of it before are to have an opportunity 
now. I understand that several .of our best 
families have promised to allow their young 
people to attend, and that some have gone so far 
as to take a few lessons in dancing in the city in 
order that they may appear to advantage on this 
occasion. There is one young woman in par- 
ticular about whom I feel very anxious. She 
promised me two weeks ago to think carefully 
over the matter of personal religion. I had 
hoped she might soon unite with the church. 


234 


IN THE WAY 


But now she is to be allowed to attend this ball, 
and I fear much that it may turn her thoughts 
in other directions. She is very young and so 
easily influenced. It is Miss Haskins of whom 
I speak ; and by the way, she is in your Sunday- 
school class I remember. Perhaps you can do 
something. I am told that her father cannot 
say no to any request of hers — he is rather weak 
in a good many ways I should judge — and that 
her mother, though strict in such matters usually, 
has for once been overruled and the girl is to go. 
Just the mere fact of her going might not be so 
bad, perhaps, if she were not to be escorted by a 
low-lived scoundrel who is not fit to be in decent 
society. Those Brower boys are really much 
beneath her in every way. I cannot understand 
what her father can be about to allow it. The 
poor girl is too young to understand how danger- 
ous they are.” 

The minister and Ruth said a good deal more 
and made some plans for future work, and pos- 
sible help for some of the young ball-goers, but 
Joseph heard no more. He was making some 
plans of his own. Then as the minister took 
his departure he thanked the earnest hostess 
gravely and told her, his face illumined with a 
kind of spiritual light, that he always had occa- 
sion to thank God for her words whenever he 
met her. And then their eyes met and these 


IN THE WAY 


235 


words which he had intended should sound so 
commonplace took on an added meaning, because 
his eyes could not keep it secret that they meant 
a great deal to him, and Ruth’s eyes went down 
and her cheeks flushed a little as she tried to 
take them in the commonplace way in which he 
had spoken, and then after he had gone she 
went to her room to think it all over, and make 
up her mind why it was that she seemed to feel 
so happy over what Mr. Clifton had said more 
than over ordinary praise. But she remembered 
her brother Joseph soon, and going softly to the 
closed portiere to see if he had awakened, found 
him gone. Joseph was in his room making a 
toilet for his first call upon a young lady. When 
he made up his mind a thing had to be done he 
did it right away. 

Louise Clifton’s plans had progressed very 
well. She found all the things at the stores 
that she had come in search of, and her mother 
had consented to her buying several things she 
had set her heart upon. Mr. and Miss Brummel 
had met them at the appointed hour, and gone 
with them to the appointed high-class restaurant 
where they had indulged themselves in all the 
indigestibles that Summerton did not produce. 
They were now on their way to the opera house. 
Georgiana and Mrs. Clifton were ahead. Alonzo 


236 


IN THE WAY 


Bruinmel and Louise lingered behind chatting 
and stopping to look at a fine display of orchids 
in a florist’s window. Mrs. Clifton walked rather 
rapidly. She felt uncomfortable about this part 
of the journey, and she wanted to have it over 
as soon as possible. Georgiana wished she would 
not go quite so fast, and suggested once or twice 
that the others were far behind, but Mrs. Clifton 
said she wanted to get there and sit down, she 
was tired. So they had stood for several minutes 
waiting in the entrance way when Louise and 
her escort finally came up the many stone steps. 

It was nearl}^ time for the early train to Sum- 
merton, and David Benedict was hurrying along 
the street. He noticed young Brummel’s pecu- 
liar jaunty hat ahead of him, and as he rapidly 
drew nearer he recognized Louise Clifton walk- 
ing with him. It gave him an unpleasant sen- 
sation as it always did when he saw something 
pure and white in close proximity to something 
filthy, but he thought nothing of it except to 
wonder mildly how they happened both to be 
here ; but then he was here himself, and it was 
no great wonder if they had happened to meet 
upon the street in a city so near their homes. 
However, just as he was passing them they turned 
across his path and mounted the stone steps. 
He bowed and looked up quickly to see where 
it was they were going, and then with a shade 


IN THE WAY 


237 


of something like disappointment crossing his 
face his eyes met Louise’s smiling face, and she 
felt almost imperceptibly that she was in danger 
of falling from the high eminence where he had 
seemed to place her in his esteem. She bowed 
and smiled and the color mounted into her cheek 
and David was gone. But though she laughed 
and talked freely she felt uncomfortable, and 
could not forget the look in David’s eyes. 

Young Brummel had seen her bow, and from 
force of habit had lifted his hand to his hat, and 
then, looking to see who was the recipient of her 
favor, he gave a coarse, familiar nod, and laughed, 
asking her how she came to be so intimate with 
that clodhopper. Louise’s face grew suddenly 
pink with indignation. She never could bear 
to see injustice done, and she knew in her heart 
that David was far superior in every Way — un- 
less it might be in the cut of his clothes, which 
indeed were not bad — to the young man who 
was making fun of him. With a touch of the 
hauteur she could sometimes employ to ad- 
vantage, she told him icily that Mr. Benedict 
was the brother of her dearest friend, the love- 
liest girl in the world. And then young Brum- 
mel thought it wise to change the subject. But 
somehow Louise’s pleasure in the afternoon’s 
performance was clouded. She criticised the 
scenery and the dresses, and did not like the 


238 


IN THK WAY 


soprano’s voice, and curled her lip over some of 
the jokes which Alonzo thought exceedingly 
funny and laughed uncontrollably over. She 
wondered how he could enjoy it. Indeed the 
play itself seemed vapid and uninteresting. She 
did not know that she was defiantly trying to 
look at it all through David Benedict’s eyes, and 
prove to herself that if he were here he could not 
possibly see anything out of the way in it, while 
she saw a great deal that did not please even 
herself, now that her eyes were somewhat opened. 

Then she began wondering how it was that 
David had any ideas about theatre-going at all, 
living as he did in the country where there were 
no theatres. Why should he have opinions on 
the subject? It was absurd. Surely Ruth could 
not have had reason or opportunity to speak to 
him on the subject. She must have been mis- 
taken in thinking she saw disapproval in his 
eyes, and what right had he to disapprove of her 
actions, anyway ? But indignation with him did 
not suit her mood. She was anxious to help 
him in some way. She truly wanted to be a 
missionary, and had an indistinct idea that while 
she was not a Christian herself, nor had any per- 
sonal interest in the matter, she supposed it was 
a very good thing for a young man, and if she 
could help him to procure some religion of the 
right sort to help him well through the world 


IN THE WAY 


239 


and keep him from being wild — which term in 
her mind had a very dim and misty meaning — 
she would like to do so. It was certainly annoy- 
ing to be blocked in her influence at the outset 
by some notion of his concerning theatre-going. 
It was also provoking when one had once tasted 
the joy of being an angel of light to a young 
man to suddenly see him discover a flaw in his 
angel. Altogether Louise was cross and a little 
unreasonable, and when on the journey home, 
Alonzo Brummel contrived it so that his sister 
and Mrs. Clifton should sit together and he 
should be with Louise again, she was very quiet 
and unresponsive. He had been getting ready 
all the afternoon and making this opportunity 
to tell her of the Summerton ball, and ask if 
she would not like to go just for fun, and “ to 
laugh at the rest,” for he had taken it for granted 
that she felt as superior to the village as he did. 

However, when Alonzo Brummel broached the 
subject of the ball Louise was all attention. It 
sounded even more like what she was wont to 
call a “ lark ” than this trip to the city. Of 
course her brother would object, but what of 
that ? He might as well learn soon as late that 
he could not control her movements and that she 
was not going to walk in a straitlaced fashion 
just because he was a minister and she had been 
forced to come and live with him. She felt a 


240 


IN THE WAY 


little uncertain about her mother’s consent how- 
ever, for Mrs. Clifton had shown decided signs 
of wavering concerning this city trip, and it 
would be better not to endanger the ball by 
mentioning it to her so soon after the other 
escapade. Better let her have time to recover 
from her worry and see that no harm came from it. 
Besides, Mr. Brummel suggested that she should 
spend the evening at their house and they would 
all go from there. He represented that his sis- 
ter would be going. Poor Georgiana served her 
brother many a turn that she never knew of dur- 
ing this short vacation. He forgot perhaps to 
state that Georgiana could not tread a measure 
to music to save her life, and that his mother 
was so bitterly opposed to the grand affair get- 
ting up at the hall that Georgiana would no 
more be allowed to enter its precincts than she 
would to take a walk down the broad road to 
destruction. Mrs. Brummel had a few stanch 
principles which she had inherited with the 
“ Ivives of the Martyrs,” and from which she in 
nowise allowed herself or her daughter to depart. 
She supposed that her son reverenced them also, 
and he took care that she should not find out 
otherwise. 

And so Louise Clifton arranged to spend the 
evening with the Brummels, and did not notice 
that Georgiana looked rather surprised when, 


IN THK WAY 


241 


as they parted, she said : “ Well, 1 shall see you 
to-morrow evening,” and Alonzo had difficulty 
during the remainder of their walk home to in- 
vent a suitable reason for her having said this 
which should not interfere with his plans. 

And while these plans were going on, those 
who had been set to watch the walls of Zion 
were continuing in prayer, and planning for 
warfare with the evil one. Ruth in her own 
quiet chamber was trying to remember once again 
that the work was God’s and not hers, and that he 
could make right come from even what seemed 
all wrong. She turned over plan after plan. 
Should she try, for instance, to have a little im- 
promptu Thanksgiving party of her own ? 
— have her Sabbath-school class and any others 
who were in peculiar danger from the next 
evening’s entertainment, and invite the minister 
and have a delightful time that would outshine 
the other’s attraction? No, there were objec- 
tions to that. It was too late. The young peo- 
ple who were going had all gotten ready by this 
time and could not be detained now by a quiet 
evening of popcorn and conundrums. Besides, 
she could not hope to prolong such an entertain- 
ment late enough to save them all from going 
to the hall afterward, for that entertainment was 
likely to last till the small hours of the morn- 
ing. She saw ideas in this thought for future 


242 


IN THE WAY 


use, but none that would do to carry out now, 
for the simple reason that none of her guests 
who needed it would be willing to come to any- 
thing she might offer them that night. But 
Summerton wanted entertaining, it was plain, 
and if the good of life would not give it them 
then they were ready to take it from the evil. 

David was wondering in his heart why he was 
so certain that his sister Ruth would not go to that 
ball nor have anything to do with it. His first 
intimation of it had been some days before. He 
had heard the Brower boys talking in the gro- 
cery, and he thought he heard his sister’s name 
mentioned, but when he came in sight of them 
there was no more said. He ground his teeth to 
think that his sister might be mentioned by such 
lips as theirs and was thankful that breath of 
theirs need never reach her ears. 

The minister was praying and lingering in 
prayer for his church. He was young and these 
were his first people, and he fairly agonized over 
them, as a mother will with her first child, 
whenever they were in danger or doing wrong. 
It hurt his sensitive nature to have them grieve 
their Saviour. His high-strung temperament 
was constantly feeling the slights put upon his 
Master and theirs. Would they never come to 
Christ and live for him ? Must Satan ever have 
the mastery ? He would not give up the work 


IN THE WAY 


243 


though he could not see his way clear before 
him ; but he felt sorely discouraged now at the 
outset. It was the old weary problem so often 
quoted from lyowell : 

Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the 
throne, — 

Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim 
unknown 

Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his 
own. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


J OSEPH BENEDICT stood before the Has- 
kins door and knocked as an evening caller 
knocks. He had never stood there in such ca- 
pacity before. He had never gone to call upon 
a young woman before, but all the strangeness 
of his position was overcome by the solemn 
errand which he felt he had to perform. He 
had taken vows upon himself with this girl that 
they would both try to live a Christian life. 
Without any instruction in the matter, Joseph 
understood that a public ball was no place in 
which to keep such a contract. It is a strange 
fact that the untutored, un-Christian mind al- 
most always puts down theatre-going, dancing, 
card-playing, and the like as things unfit for a 
follower of Jesus. You will find this is espe- 
cially the case among young men who have been 
brought up in the country and are familiar with 
only the crudest kinds of these amusements. 
Whether they would be refined into thinking dif- 
ferently by coming into constant contact with 
worldly Christians is a question. But these are 
by no means all found in the cities. It is true 
that sometimes such persons, when they become 
244 


IN THE WAY 


245 


Christians themselves, will be found indulging 
in and condoning such amusements ; but usually 
before they come to Christ they will criticise 
them in one who professes Christianity. Such 
people as Joseph will often have higher ideals 
for Christians than they have for themselves. 

“ Is Miss Ellen in ? ” he asked of the young- 
est Haskins, who opened the door and his own 
mouth at the same time and at about the same 
width. The boy seemed not to understand, and 
the question had to be asked again. Then the 
boy retreated, leaving the door wide open and 
revealing the Haskins sitting room with the fam- 
ily just gathering after supper. “ Ma ! ” called 
the boy, “ ma, come ’ere ! ” 

“ Who is it, and what does he want ? ” an- 
swered a woman’s voice. 

“ It’s Joe Ben’dict ! He said ‘ Mi’zellen ’ ! ” 
said the boy incoherently. 

Mother Haskins went curiously to the door to 
see what might be the matter. 

“Is Miss Ellen in?” asked Joseph with a 
bow, as he had seen the minister do when he 
came to call on his sister. 

“ Miss Ellen ? ” repeated the mother dazedly ; 
“ oh, you mean Ellenmelya. Yes. She’s here. 
Did you want to see her?” Mother Haskins 
did not quite like the idea of so many young 
men coming around her daughter all at once. 


246 


IN THE WAY 


She was suspicious, but she supposed he had 
some message from his sister, and as he did not 
seem disposed to subject it first to her judgment, 
she went in search of her daughter. 

Ellen Amelia came, looking tired and sur- 
prised. She had been working hard all day on 
a ball dress which was not nile-green silk, but 
which nevertheless did credit both in fashion 
and taste to her few recent lessons in dressmak- 
ing. She had caught the style from one of 
Ruth’s papers, which she wished with all her 
heart she dared borrow ; but something uneasy 
in her heart told her it was wiser not to let her 
teacher know of her intention to go to that ball, 
and so she had plodded on by herself, and had 
been disappointed even to tears many times, but 
had still persevered. 

She invited Joseph into the grim and silent 
parlor, which was as stiff and unwholesome as 
the Benedict parlor had been before the advent 
of Ruth, and Joseph looked about and pitied the 
girl from the depths of his heart because she had 
no lovely home like his. It was his way to go 
straight to business, and so without waiting to 
be seated he began. 

“ Miss Ellen,” he said with the manner an 
older brother might have used, “I heard you 
were about on the point of breaking your prom- 
ise, or leastways of putting yourself in the way 


IN THE WAY 


247 


of breaking it, and I came around to see about 
it. You know there’s two of us in it, and I take 
it that it is the duty of each to see that the other 
does his part.” 

“ What in the world are you gettin’ at, Joe 
Benedict ? ” asked Ellen Amelia sharply, a 
troubled feeling beginning to steal over her as 
she remembered how little thought she had 
given to the solemn promise made so short a 
time ago. 

“ Are you going to that ball in the town hall ? ” 

“ Well, what if I am ? ” said Ellen, her cheeks 
getting red and her eyes defying him. “ I don’t 
see what that’s got to do with what you were 
talking about. What’s the harm? All the 
church folks are going. Why ^fon’t you go 
yourself ? ” 

“ I don’t go because I don’t want to,” an- 
swered Joseph honestly ; “ but if I did, I 

wouldn’t after that promise I made. I don’t 
count that as one of the ways to keep such a 
promise. I don’t pretend to know much about 
this new kind of living we’ve agreed to try and 
do, you’ve had more teaching on the subject 
than I ; but if I know anything, I know that 
hall to-morrow night won’t be a fit place for any 
young girl, let alone a Christian, and I wish you 
wouldn’t.” 

There was a little change in Joseph’s voice 


248 


IN THE WAY 


now, a note of anxiety lest he might fail, the 
smallest trifle of a pleading inflection. It touched 
the girl’s pride and her coquetry at once. She 
was pleased and would see how far he would go, 
and how much he cared. Not that she meant 
to give up the ball now, with that pink tarletan 
dress almost done on her bed upstairs, and that 
dollar and a quarter paid to the city dancing- 
master to teach her a few forbidden steps. 

“ But I can’t help it now, it’s too late. I’ve 
promised, Joe, and besides it’ll be heaps of fun.” 

“ Then it’s true you’re goin’ with one of those 
fellows? I didn’t believe that. Ellen Amelia 
Haskins, don’t you know better than to trust 
yourself for one hour with either of those fel- 
lows? If you knew half what I know about 
them you’d never let them speak to you again.” 

“ Now, Joe Benedict, I never thought you’d go 
to slandering other fellows just out of jealousy ” ; 
it certainly was very silly and conceited and un- 
wise and really unpardonable in Ellen Amelia 
to so forget herself, but she did say it. She 
spent many hours of repentance over those few 
words afterward and remembered them through 
her life with shame, but she said them, and Jo- 
seph stood towering above her, wrath and disgust 
and pity mingled in his face. He felt that the 
girl needed a thorough lesson. He wished it 
was not his duty to give it, for that moment he 


IN THK WAY 


249 


felt a contempt rising in his heart for the poor 
silly girl. He jealous ! But she saw what she 
had said, and shame began to rise in her face at 
sight of his. Then pity came for her and he 
suppressed his anger by a mighty effort. 

“ Now, look here. Miss Ellen,” he said, his 
voice kind but firm ; “ you know you didn’t 
mean to say that. You know that I never asked 
you to go to that ball, and wouldn’t have, and 
that if I had wanted your company there were 
other ways to get it than talking about the man 
you were going with. That all goes without say- 
ing. You wouldn’t have said that if you hadn’t 
been put out. I suppose you want to go, and 
you’ll be disappointed about it, and all that, but 
it really can’t be helped. It isn’t a proper place 
for any good woman to go. I wouldn’t let my 
sister go there, no, nor go near those two men 
either, and isn’t it my duty to do all I can to 
take care of my sister’s friend ? You know I 
don’t care, except for her sake and for the sake 
of the promise we both made. If you meant 
anything by that you must give up this ball. 
Can’t you believe me when I tell you it isn’t 
a fit place for you ? ” 

Something in his masterful tone touched 
Ellen Amelia. Something shamed, and some- 
thing frightened her too. She could not trust 
her womanhood in a place of which a man 


250 


IN THE WAY 


Spoke in this way. She had innate refinement 
enough in her nature for that. It may have 
been something the same feeling that came to 
Louise Clifton when she found that she was in 
danger of falling from her spiritual supremacy 
over David Benedict. Ellen Amelia said nothing 
and the tears came to her eyes. For a few min- 
utes words were impossible. She choked and 
tried to gain control over herself. All thought 
of the piuk dress had vanished now. She felt 
as if God had sent her a condemning message 
and she could but yield before it. 

“What shall I do? I promised,” she said 
helplessly, looking up at Joseph, who still stood 
quietly watching her, hardly knowing what to 
say now that her tears had come and his errand 
had been told. 

“ Tell them you can’t go. Write a note.. Put 
it in the post office.” 

“ But,” said Ellen Amelia, the blood rolling 
in rich waves over her temples and forehead, 
“ they don’t take ‘ no ’ easy. I did tell them first I 
couldn’t, ’cause I knew ma wouldn’t like it, and I 
didn’t think it was any use try in’ to get pa to 
say so, he a deacon in the church ; but they said. 
Oh yes, I could, they would come for me and 
get me off somehow. And now I’ve promised, 
they’ll be mad. And Bill, he was cornin’ for 
me ; he’ll come anyhow. I just know he will ; 


IN THE WAY 


251 


he’s awful set in his way and he said he’d chosen 
me for his partner to-morrow night, and you see 
he won’t have any other. If he should come 
after me I don’t know what I’d do. I’m afraid 
I’ll have to go anyhow, now. I couldn’t do any- 
thing. He wouldn’t understand if I’d tell him 
all day why I couldn’t go.” 

Joseph set his lips firmly and stopped to con- 
sider a moment. As he had come in he made 
up his mind that Bill Brower should be frus- 
trated in some way. How? He looked down 
at the melting flakes on his sleeve and on the 
tops of his boots. It had begun to snow quite 
hard before he came in. Ah ! There was an 
idea. If it kept on all night there would be 
sleighing. He looked up with quick decision. 

“ I will come for you. I will come to take 
you sleigh-riding. We will go up to our house. 
You are to take dinner with my sister. Will you 
be ready ? I will come early ; it will be dark at 
six oclock, and even if they were lingering 
about they could not know.” 

Half an hour later KHen Amelia stood in her 
own little room and looked in the seven-by-nine 
looking-glass watching the color roll over her 
face and neck as she thought again of the words 
she had spoken, taunting this young man and 
telling him he was jealous of another’s having 
her company. Then she grew redder as she re- 


252 


IN THE WAY 


membered his words which had come with the 
immediate frankness which utter indifference 
toward her would prompt, “You know I don’t 
care except for my sister’s sake.” 

She tried to flash her eyes in indignation at 
herself for having submitted to his talk after 
that, and called herself a fool for giving up a 
pleasant companion who admired her, and a 
whole evening full of untold delights, to go 
with this man who had said he cared nothing 
about her, to take a sleigh ride which neither 
cared to take, and like as not be a burden at a 
Thanksgiving dinner where she was not planned 
for nor wanted. But only tears would come in- 
stead of flashes, and she turned out her light, and 
hung away the pink tarletan without noticing 
how she crushed it, and cried herself to sleep 
without trying to pray. Poor miserable child ! 
Had God forsaken her at the outset of her 
trying to walk with him ? How tenderly did 
the watching Father look down upon his child 
that night ! He saw just how he was to lead her 
feet to pleasant paths and beside still waters by 
and by. 

Downstairs Ellen Amelia had been obliged to 
answer numerous questions as best she could, and 
she had tried to keep her own counsel, but had 
failed. What her mother and grandmother could 
not divine they could draw out of any one. Be- 


IN THE WAY 


253 


fore the note was written declining to go to the 
town ball in company with Bill Brower, Mrs. 
Haskins senior and junior were in possession of 
such of the facts as they thought were worth 
while. They did not count Joseph in the case 
except so far as the sleigh-ride was concerned, 
though Mrs. Haskins addressed the deacon after 
their daughter had retired, as follows : 

“ Deacon Haskins, I think it’s time your 
daughter was attended to. She ought to be 
sent away to school or somethin’, unless you 
want her carried right off before your face and 
eyes. Since that Benedic’ girl has come and 
rigged her up in those new-fangled things, 
here’s been three young men to see her, and she 
ain’t more’n a babe yet in her understandin’ of 
things. If she can’t be made to understand 
housework, or care for it, maybe she could learn 
a little more and get ready to teach somethin’, 
for the land knows, if she should be left to keep 
herself now she’d have to starve ! And I’ll miss 
my guess if she wouldn’t do it gladly in company 
with them story papers of hers. I will say in 
justice to that Benedic’ girl, that she has done 
one good thing in gettin’ Ellen ’Melia to give 
up that ball, but I shouldn’t be surprised to hear 
that there’s somethin’ a good deal worse gettin’ 
up to match it, or she’d never have give it up. 
It seems to me it’s a pretty state of things, any- 


254 


IN THE WAY 


way, when a chit of a girl can come in town 
and get my daughter to do a thing with a few 
words, that I’ve failed in with hours and hours 
of lectures.” 

Deacon Haskins was not the man to reply that 
if she had lectured less she might have accom- 
plished more. He only replied that “ Perhaps it 
might be a good plan to send the gearl to schule 
awhile longer,” and then he turned over his paper 
and was absorbed in its columns. 

Joseph strode home through the fast-thick- 
ening snowflakes wondering why on earth he had 
done all this and brought so much extra trouble 
on himself, and what he should do now, with a 
sleigh-ride and a dinner party on his own untrained 
hands. Could it be possible that he was trying 
to do something in this way for his new Master, 
or was it merely to get ahead of Bill Brower? 
He decided that it was a little of both. Then 
he went to his sister. 

It was rather hard explaining, but he man- 
aged to do it. He tried to make it out that he 
had done it all for Ruth, and explained carefully 
that he heard her and the minister talking about 
it the day before as he was dozing on the sofa. 
According to his account the whole thing had 
been a most commonplace happening. He had 
“seen” Ellen Amelia and the subject of the ball 
had “come up,” and he had “found she was 


IN TIIK WAY 


255 


going,” and had told her it was not going to be 
a fit place for girls to go to and she had better 
come to their house, Ruth wanted her. 

Ruth’s eyes brightened and her heart grew 
glad. This brother was joining with her in her 
plans to help others, and also he was showing 
his confidence in her by inviting a dinner party 
for her before he told her. She was pleased 
beyond expression. Entering heartily into the 
plan she wrote a graceful note to Ellen Amelia 
saying that she was so glad she could come, that 
they wanted to have a pleasant little frolic on 
Thanksgiving evening. This she dispatched 
the next morning by the willing Joseph, together 
with a little note to the minister in which she 
asked his presence at her impromptu dinner and 
desired that he should tell her if there were any 
others whom he would like her to invite. David 
to her surprise quite entered into the affair, offer- 
ing several helpful suggestions. She had feared 
he might wish to withdraw from the party alto- 
gether, but instead he seemed to be planning 
things on a much larger scale than she had 
thought of. When Ruth wondered what she 
should do for extra help in the kitchen, so that 
Sally might be able to attend to the waiting at 
the table, it was David who thought of a woman, 
went to see if she would come, and promised to 
take her back before nine o’clock to put her 


IN THE WAY 


256 

little children to bed. So though the party was 
hastily gotten up, things were in fine trim for 
the evening before the high-noon had come. 
And then Ruth had time to go to her room and 
pray with trembling and with hope for the suc- 
cess of her evening. For there were others to 
come besides Bllen Amelia, suggested by the 
minister and Joseph, who suddenly developed 
into an excellent enemy to the town-hall ball. 

Could Ruth have known as she knelt for those 
few moments by her bed in prayer before she 
went to finish her other arrangements, that her 
brother Joseph was just then standing soberly by 
the couch in his room, looking out at the win- 
dow, thinking that some higher power than 
theirs must be asked to help their plans, and 
wondering how people prayed, and finally kneel- 
ing solemnly down and closing his eyes — how 
would her heart have throbbed with joy ! No 
words came. His thoughts took no expression. 
Common words that he had heard other people 
pray in meeting did not fit his thought, besides 
he felt awkward and afraid of blundering in 
such a grave matter. But he knelt there for 
several minutes in reverent waiting, and then 
arose and went to carry out a commission of his 
sister’s. And that was Joseph Benedict’s first 
real prayer ; and it was not for himself. 


CHAPTER XIX 


I T was near six o’clock. The last tardy mem- 
ber of the decorating committee had left 
the hall and the janitor had thankfully locked 
the door and hurried home to his supper, feeling 
glad that the affair would be over before many 
more hours, and his responsibility and attend- 
ance would cease. He had scarce ever had such 
arduous labor connected with his duties, except 
the time when those city people had taken pos- 
session and tried to raise some money to found a 
Home for Aged and Decrepit Canines, by a fancy 
bazar and amateur theatricals, and' had made 
three dollars and seventy-five cents over expenses, 
which they had given to the janitor for his five 
days of extra labor, and then having had their 
fun, departed for more fertile pastures, leaving 
the Summerton cats and dogs to live and die un- 
blessed and uncared-for. 

The members of the committee of arrange- 
ments were eating hasty suppers, and scolding 
their husbands for forgetting to send certain last 
things to the hall. Some few had even begun 
to dress, or were exhibiting hastily constructed 
dresses to admiring grandmothers, who were to 
R 257 


IN THE WAY 


258 

remain at home with the small children, and 
who must get their pleasure in some way. 

Ellen Amelia, not having to eat any supper, 
stood before her small looking-glass arrayed in 
coarse pink tarletan. She had bought it in the 
village drygoods store, and it cost very little be- 
cause it had been on hand for several years, 
Summerton not being given to pink tarletan ex- 
cept by the eighth of a yard to dress an occa- 
sional doll, or make popcorn bags for the Christ- 
mas tree. Mrs. Haskins had set her lips firmly 
when she discovered what had been bought, but 
the money had been Ellen Amelia’s own, saved 
for a long time, and it was spent, so what was 
the use in scolding? She only said, “I’d like 
to know what earthly use you’ll ever make of 
that thing afterward ! It ain’t strong enough 
for mosquito bars,” and shut Ellen Amelia’s bed- 
room door hard and went downstairs, and the 
daughter had sighed and thought how very hard 
it was to be like other people with such a 
mother. It is true she had her doubts about 
the propriety of wearing it to a dinner at the 
Benedicts’, but they were largely overbalanced 
by her desire to wear the gown now that she had 
sacrificed her money and her time to get it 
ready. Besides, a dinner, according to her liter- 
ary experience, was a grand affair, at which Miss 
Benedict would probably be arrayed in “black 


IN THE WAY 


259^ 

velvet, with a necklace of large solitaire dia- 
monds encircling her lily white throat, whose 
whiteness far outshone the gems in brilliancy.” 
She wondered if Ruth would have her brothers 
adopt full evening dress. She was not quite 
sure what that was, but she was full of anxiety 
to see it. 

The dress certainly was pretty and becoming ; 
although, had she but known it, she would have 
looked better in blue. But her cheeks were red 
with excitement and her eyes shone like two 
stars. She was not going to the ball, but she 
was going to something, and with a young man, 
and that was a great deal, even if he had told 
her he cared nothing for her except for his sis- 
ter’s sake. The pink dress had large puffed 
sleeves to the elbow, below which her plump 
arms were bare. She looked regretfully at them 
with a sort of apologetic feeling because she 
had no gorgeous bracelets to deck them with. 
She had cut the neck as dkcolletk as she dared, 
her father being a deacon and her mother a little 
behind the times as to fashion, and being fright- 
ened with the rather undressed effect, had shirred 
a full ruffle of soft, very old muslin in to help 
piece out the way to her throat. The muslin 
had been a dainty little fancy apron that had 
been a treasure and delight in days gone by, but 
she had ruthlessly cut it up without a sigh for 


26 o 


IN THE WAY 


this grand occasion. An old summer hat con- 
tained three very pink, very crushed roses and 
some buds. These she renovated and placed on 
her left shoulder where they drooped as grace- 
fully among the cheap pink and white ruches as 
if they had been real flowers amid costly silk 
and chiffon. She surveyed the effect awhile 
and longed for a necklace of pearls or some- 
thing of that sort, even if it were but a gold 
chain ; but gold chains were not plentiful in the 
Haskins family, and she finally contented herself 
with a rusty bit of black velvet ribbon tied 
about her throat, which added much to the effect 
and really helped to bring out the color in her 
cheeks. Altogether she made a pretty picture 
as she came down the stairs into the dining 
room where the young Haskinses were gathered, 
prepared to get what comfort they could from 
the remains of the dinner’s turkey. Tommy 
stopped chewing, with one end of the wishbone 
in his mouth, and Amos dropped his under jaw 
in mild amaze. Deacon Haskins looked and 
saw before him his young wife as she was years 
ago in a pretty pink calico, and wondered, and 
was delighted that his daughter could look so 
like an angel, and the heart of the New York 
grandmother throbbed with pleased exulta- 
tion that a grandchild of hers should appear in 
such good style. But practical Mother Haskins, 


IN THE WAY 


261 


who had yet good common sense among her vir- 
tues, stood in the kitchen door with the coffee 
pot and spoke out in indignation : 

“ Ellen Amelia Haskins, you little fool ! Are 
you actually thinkin’ of wearin’ that tawdry rag 
to Farmer Benedict’s house to supper? Now 
you can turn right round and go back upstairs 
and dress yourself decent. Bare neck an’ arms 
in the middle o’ winter, and you a deacon’s 
daughter too. Pa, why don’t you speak up an’ 
tell her she’s a disgrace to her bringin’-up. This 
is some more o’ them trashy papers ! Now I 
shall clean them out o’ this house. Deacon, I 
hope you see now what you’ve done by humorin’ 
her in them story-readin’ notions.” 

But Ellen Amelia, with a graceful sweep of 
the gown, long practised before her nine-inch 
mirror in imitation of that given by the Countess 
Euclarion, swept out of the door into the hall 
leading to the front room, only saying impres- 
sively and in tones that should not reach the 
ears of the waiting young man, “ Certainly, ma, 
I shall wear it. Did you s’pose I paid my 
money out and made it for nothin’ ? ” 

Then did Ellen Amelia appear before Joseph 
Benedict, and in the smoky light made by the 
kerosene lamp which Amos had hastily brought 
when he opened the door for Joseph, she looked 
like some delicate pink angel floating before 


262 


IN THE WAY 


him. He did not know that the tarletan was 
coarse and cheap, nor the velvet ribbon rusty 
and creased, nor the flowers soiled and crumpled. 
He only saw the artistic whole, with all the de- 
fects hidden by the kindly shadows of the room. 
He looked and dropped his eyes, for it seemed 
that it was some beautiful vision which almost 
ought not to be looked upon by common, disin- 
terested eyes. Neither was he used to decollete 
dressing and he felt a little startled by it. He 
had an innate instinct that made him drop his 
eyes from the plump round neck. But there was 
no denying that Ellen Amelia had been suddenly 
transformed into a beautiful being, the like of 
which he had never seen before. At last he 
gained his senses and his voice. He spoke 
gravely. It seemed that he could not be other- 
wise with this girl. She was to him like the 
visible presence of his promise to God. She 
was the paper on which his promise was written 
and must be guarded and reverenced, not for the 
paper’s sake but for the promise it held. Ellen 
Amelia felt this, and although she did not un- 
derstand it, she resented it. She wanted to be 
reverenced for her own sake and not for the 
promise, however sacredly she might regard the 
promise: 

“You are very beautiful,” he said, slowly 
brushing his hand across his eyes as if to clear 


IN THE WAY 


263 

them from the blinding vision ; “ but isn’t that 
rather thin?” and he reached out a rough finger 
and awkwardly felt of the material in the enor- 
mous puff that surrounded her arm. “You’ll 
catch an awful cold such a night as this. It 
isn’t safe. I’ll just sit down and wait while you 
go get a good warm flannel dress on,” and he 
suited the word to the deed and sat down. 

Poor Ellen Amelia ! Her humiliation was 
complete. She turned without a word and fairly 
flew through the hall and dining room and up 
the stairs and threw herself upon her bed and 
cried. It was some twenty minutes later that 
she appeared in the front room arrayed in her 
dark blue serge, with her coat and hat and a 
thick veil over her face. She had washed the 
tear stains away as much as possible, and she 
trusted to the cold air and snowflakes to do the 
rest. As for Mother Haskins, there never was a 
more surprised mother in her life.' She had no 
more expected that Ellen Amelia would go up- 
stairs and change her dress than she had ex- 
pected the gray cat to change his fur for white. 
What had happened to the girl? 

That ride was a peculiar one. Ellen Amelia 
scarcely spoke a word from the time she was 
carefully tucked .into the sleigh until she was 
handed out on the doorstep at the Benedict home. 
There was something in her silence which em- 


264 


IN THE WAY 


barrassed Joseph, and made him endeavor to get 
up a conversation. However, he was not encour- 
aged much and he soon gave it up. 

Early in the evening young Brummel called 
at the parsonage for Miss Clifton. He had a 
horse and cutter and asked her if she would mind 
taking a short turn in the snow before going to 
the hall. It was not until they had taken quite 
a ride and were turned toward the village once 
more that Mr. Brummel casually mentioned that 
his sister was suffering from a severe headache 
and would not be able to go with them that 
evening, and, “ How^ about it?” Should he stop 
at the hall at once ? It was later than he sup- 
posed, and fully time to go if they meant to 
have any fun before the rather early hour when 
Louise’s mother would expect her to return. 
Louise consented to go at once to the hall, 
though she felt just the least bit uncomfortable 
about going without even Georgiana as chaperon. 
At the door he left her, pointing out the dress- 
ing room and telling her he would return in just 
a moment, as soon as he could find a man to take 
the horse to a neighboring stable. 

David Benedict had slipped away from the 
table as soon as dinner was over. He had prom- 
ised Mrs. Stevens to get her home as soon as 
possible after the dinner was out of the way, and 
David never neglected a promise. He went and 


IN THE WAY 


265 


harnessed the horses to the sleigh, the same one 
in which Joseph and Ellen Haskins had taken 
their silent ride, and in a few minutes Mrs. 
Stevens was flying through the snow to her 
children with a basket of good things under the 
seat for their delectation. 

David deposited Mrs. Stevens and her basket 
at her own door, and then, bethinking himself 
that possibly the post office might be open thus 
late in the evening, even though it was a holi- 
day, and there might be a letter for Ruth, he 
drove over to the stores. The town hall was 
the next door but one to the post office, and as 
David hitched his horses he naturally looked 
over toward the hall and wondered who would go 
there. He saw another cutter standing before 
the door and a lady being helped out. As the 
lady parted from the gentleman at the door the 
full light of the entrance-way fell on her face and 
he saw it for just an instant before she passed in. 
It was Louise Clifton. One glance at the retreat- 
ing form in the cutter and he felt certain that 
her escort was Alonzo Brummel. Hot indigna- 
tion burned in David’s veins. Here was this 
girl’s brother at his home, doing his best to save 
some of the young people from going to the hall, 
and here was his sister entering as if it were a 
matter of course. But no thought that it was 
her fault crossed his mind. She did not know 


266 


IN THE WAY 


of course, where she was going. It was all the 
fault of young Brummel. He was capable of any 
sort of misrepresentation, David believed, if he 
was at all like what he had been in their old 
days in the village school. With a sudden im- 
pulse that was unusual for him, for he was a 
cool-headed man, David flung the reins into the 
sleigh and strode across the intervening space 
between himself and the open hall door. Louise 
had disappeared within. The two Brower boys 
were lounging in the doorway, evidently just 
preparing to go in. He heard their coarse laugh 
and more. He heard a sentence about the lady 
who had just passed in, that sent his blood racing 
at fever heat to his brain. Then these men were 
exulting over the thought that the minister’s 
sister was to be a guest with themselves this 
evening, and were even boasting of the number 
of times they would put their vile arms about her, 
and take her pure white fingers in their polluted 
ones. David could scarcely keep his hands off 
them as they entered the door with him. He set 
his teeth hard and clenched his fists unconsciously. 
One thing he meant to do. Louise must be res- 
cued from this open door to the pit even if he 
had to carry her away by main force. He would 
not have it rest upon his soul that a pure girl 
should be allowed to suffer the touch of hands 
like those that had just gone in, and he knew 


IN THE WAY 


267 


many others who were in all probability in the 
hall now, who were no better. If he did any- 
thing, it must be done at once before Alonzo 
Brummel returned. With desperate haste he 
turned to the door labeled, “ Ladies’ dressing 
room,” and knocked. 

“Is Miss Clifton here?” he asked of the 
frightened girl with a curling-iron in her hand 
and several hairpins in her mouth who opened 
the door a very small crack. “ Please tell her 
some one is waiting for her at the door, and wishes 
her to make haste. It is very important.” 

David did not stop to think what he should 
say. He spoke with authority, and his face 
looked white and drawn. He turned and went 
outside. He did not wish to meet her in the 
glare of the light before every one. He did not 
yet know what he should say to her. 

The girl with the curling iron conveyed her 
message and added by way of explanation as 
Louise turned with a scornful surprise toward 
the messenger, “ I suppose it is the minister 
waiting outside perhaps. I guess something’s 
happened. He looked awful scared when he 
give me the word.” This was spoken in a 
cheerful tone and intended to excite interest, but 
it struck terror to Louise’s heart. What had 
happened ? Her mother ? Her brother ? Was 
some one sick or was Robert merely angry ? No, 


268 


IN THE WAY 


Robert had gone out to dinner, she did not know 
where. He could not have found out possibly, 
so soon, for not a soul knew yet except herself 
and Mr. Bruinmel that she had come here. It 
must be sudden illness, or the house on fire, or 
something dreadful — a telegram from New York 
perhaps. A hundred awful possibilities rushed 
through Ivouise’s excited brain as she struggled 
with her wraps and hurried out to the steps. 

She wondered a little and was still more 
frightened when she found it was David Bene- 
dict who was waiting for her. 

“What is it?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, 
what is the matter, and where is my brother? 
or Mr. Brummel ? ” 

“ Come this way and I’ll tell you,” said David 
gravely, hurrying her across the snowy pave- 
ment to his own cutter, putting her in with 
haste, and tucking the robes scientifically about 
her. She saw that he was hurrying with all his 
might and she kept quite still, her heart throb- 
bing painfully, until he jumped in beside her 
and started the horses off at a furious rate. He 
felt that he must get her far away from the vi- 
cinity of those two vile creatures who had dared 
to speak of her in the way he had heard, as fast 
as he possibly could. 

“ Now tell me quick,” she pleaded, laying her 
hand earnestly on his arm, “what is it? My 


IN THK WAY 


269 


mother — is she sick? Don’t be afraid to tell 
me the worst at once. I can bear it. I can 
bear anything but suspense ! ” Poor child, she 
thought she could bear anything, and yet when 
she found out what was the matter she could 
not bear it at all. 

David looked at her in surprise. “ Don’t be 
frightened,” he said almost tenderly. “ It is not 
your mother. There is nothing to be frightened 
at now. You are safe. I will take care of you.” 

“ What is it then ? What do you mean ? I 
was not in any danger was I? How could I 
be?” 

And then David Benedict perceived that he 
was not going to have an easy task to explain to 
the kidnapped young woman his strange and 
summary action. 


CHAPTER XX 


“ T DO not understand,” said Eonise. “ What 
A possible peril could I be in, and how did 
you come to find it out ? ” 

“ Did you know what kind of a place you 
were going into just now ? ” asked David. 

“ Certainly,” answered she with some asperity ; 
“I was in the town hall, was I not? I under- 
stood that was the name of the place. I was go- 
ing to a ball, just to see what it was like. I 
wish you would tell me at once what is the mat- 
ter. I do not in the least understand.” Her tone 
was quite determined. She was prepared to give 
her rescuer a hearing, but it must be no trivial 
matter for which he had thus meddled with her 
affairs. He saw that he must explain fully, and 
that he had but one chance to save himself in 
her eyes. That chance was to tell her the 
truth — the whole truth. He never stopped, 
however, to think how she might regard him. 
His only care was for her. She must not be 
allowed to go back to that place even if he was 
obliged to resort to using force, or in other 
words, his advantage of the sleigh and two good 
horses over her. He would take her to her 


270 


IN THK WAY 


271 


brother and let him manage the affair if she 
would not be persuaded. David set his lips, for 
his task was made the harder by the sudden dull 
disappointment that settled upon him when he 
found that the young woman did not regard a 
public ball with any degree of shrinking at all. 

“ Miss Clifton, did you know when you went 
to that place that you would be expected to 
dance, and to dance with every one present? 
Did you know that some of the dancing and the 
dancers would be unpleasantly familiar, and that 
some of the men with whom you would be 
thrown would not be fit companions for you ? ” 

Douise’s cheeks fairly blazed. 

“ Do you mean to say that you have under- 
taken to manage me ? ” she asked indignantly. 
“I do not understand what all this means. I 
knew, of course, what sort of an entertainment 
I was going to attend and, of course, I expected 
to have a little fun in dancing. As for the young 
men, I think I could take care of myself, and I 
am bound by no village laws to dance with all 
of them. Indeed, I suppose there are very few 
with whom I should have cared to do so. If 
that is what you have made all this fuss about, 
please turn about this moment and take me back. 
Mr. Brummel will think it unpardonable in me 
to have gone off in this unexplained fashion. 
I thought at least that some one was dead by the 


272 


IN THK WAY 


way you acted. Did my brother send you after 
me ? I demand to know that ! He has no right 
whatever to keep me from any entertainment I 
wish to attend. I cannot help it that he has 
silly notions. I am not a minister, if he is. I 
insist upon being taken back at once, Mr. Bene- 
dict.” She lifted her head imperiously, but Da- 
vid only answered quietly : 

“That I decline to do. Miss Clifton.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked Louise, her 
voice fairly shaking with her anger. 

“I mean to protect you,” said her driver again 
quietly. 

“From what, pray? I shall need to claim 
protection from you if you keep on like this.” 

“ From yourself,” said David, “ and from the 
devil,” he added fiercely under his breath. 

“ From myself ! What do you mean ? I can 
attend to myself. And you need not insult me 
by swearing in my presence.” 

“Yes, from yourself,” answered the quiet voice 
again. “ I must protect you so that you will do 
nothing that you would regret if you knew all 
about it. And I was not swearing. I meant 
those other words. If the devil was ever any- 
where you would have found him in that hall 
to-night.” 

“ Again I demand to know what all this mys- 
tery is about. You have hinted darkly at awful 


IN THK WAY 273 

things. Now if there is anything awful you 
must tell me.” 

“ I will try,” said David his voice almost 
pained in its tensity. “ Though I’m afraid yon 
will wish you had taken my word for it. If you 
will let me I will take you to my sister and she 
will explain.” 

But Louise was high-wrought by this time. 
She had a strong suspicion that some notions of 
either Ruth Benedict or her own brother had 
been at the bottom of all this and she was in no 
mood to wish to see Ruth. 

“ I demand to know, and to know at once ! 
If there was anything the matter you can cer- 
tainly tell me. Had some one threatened to kill 
me ? ” with an ill-concealed smile. 

David took a firm hold on the reins and 
turned his eyes full upon her, and even in the 
starlight she felt the steady, calm gaze. There 
was a quieting effect in his tone which seemed 
almost masterful and he said clearly and with 
no hesitation now : “ Then I will tell you. Miss 
Clifton, as well as I can. In the first place I do 
not know what dancing is in the city, but I have 
an idea that it is very different here. For in- 
stance, you would not have been allowed to 
choose your partners sometimes, but would have 
been forced, in a wild, frolicsome way, to dance 
with whoever chose to seize you about the waist, 
s 


274 


IN THE WAY 


Your attempt at a refusal would only have put 
them — these young gentlemen — on their mettle 
and rendered it certain that you would be sub- 
jected to further liberties. If a girl does not 
wish to dance with any particular person then 
that particular person is supposed to attempt 
to make her dance with him, if not by fair 
means then by foul ones ; and you might, you 
probably would, have found yourself whirl- 
ing about in the arms of young men, whom if 
you knew, you would not speak to, to say noth- 
ing of touching, and utterly unable to leave the 
place or even get your footing till you had 
been carried twice or thrice around the room. I 
have been to these places ; you have not. I am 
not a Christian, I am sorry to say. I hope I am 
a gentleman. At any rate I was so disgusted 
that I never go myself any more, and I could not 
bear to think of my sister or any one for whom 
I cared being found there. Have I said enough. 
Miss Clifton?” 

“ I was not aware that you were a crank as 
well as the rest,” broke in the girl in an icy 
tone. “ I think this has gone far enough. If 
you do not take me back at once I shall scream 
for help when we pass the next house.” 

“ Ah,” said David with a heavy sigh, “ I see 
I have not said enough. Wait one moment. 
Miss Clifton, let me tell you the rest ; I had 


IN THE WAY 


275 


hoped not to have had to say this, but you 
force me to do so.” In his unconscious ab- 
sorption he stopped the horses and looked her 
full in the face again. 

“You said you could take care of yourself. 
The two young men who are the vilest of all 
that would have been there to-night, and who 
would have appeared to the best advantage be- 
cause they have money and dress well, were 
standing by the door as you went in. I hap- 
pened to be within hearing at the moment. 
They were betting which would have the privilege 
of holding you in his arms the greater number of 
ti77ies to-7iight ; and wait ; they were exulting 
over the thought of — they spoke of — they said 
— heaven help me ! I cannot repeat to you the 
words they spoke ! You would never look me 
in the face again. But believe me, on my honor 
as a gentleman, it was such a thing that only 
the fear of dragging your name in the filth pre- 
vented me from knocking them down then and 
there. Though they are young their lives are 
vile, their words are vile, their very thought is 
vile ; and these would have been your partners 
in the dance by this time.” David suddenly 
ceased, shut his lips hard, picked up the reins, 
and struck the horses a cut that sent them flying. 
He felt a dreadful fear that in his excitement he 
had forgotten himself and gone too far, saying 


IN THE WAY 


276 

things that were unpardonable if said to a young 
lady, yet somehow he did not care, either. He 
had risked a great deal, but it was to win, and 
he had won. 

kouise sat suddenly stunned. She too had a 
dim idea that David was saying something which 
was improper to hear, and that she ought to stop 
him, but had she not brought it upon herself ? 
and could it be true, this awful thing he was 
saying? She shuddered to think what the 
coarse mouths might have been saying, or rather 
she could not dream what it was, but some in- 
stinct told her that it was bad enough and made 
her loathe herself for giving them any chance to 
speak of her at all. As David went on, his ear- 
nest, manly tones, and the way in which he 
bravely spoke out, although his voice quivered 
with feeling, those words not usually spoken so 
plainly by a young man to a young woman, and 
which were evidently so hard for him to speak, 
gave her a new respect for him. There was 
something grand after all in his telling her this, 
though she was so ashamed of herself for mak- 
ing him do it that she could scarcely hold up 
her head. There suddenly came over her a 
wonderful change. She was frightened meek- 
ness itself. The tears had come to her eyes, a 
strange thing for Donise Clifton, for crying was 
a thing as utterly alien to her nature as frown- 


IN THE WAY 


277 


ing to a rose. They sat in silence for some 
minutes and then David as they skimmed along 
slowly reined in the horses until they came down 
to a more moderate pace. At last Louise gained 
voice to ask meekly in a choked tone : 

“ Where are we going ? ” 

David stopped the horses as suddenly as be- 
fore and answered with a deference which was 
quite a contrast to his manner a few moments 
before : 

“ Wherever you say, Miss Clifton. Will yon 
go to my sister?” 

“Oh, I guess so,” answered the poor girl. 
She felt utterly crushed by the terrible thing 
which had been told her. She had been one of 
those girls who had always said in answer to 
any argument against promiscuous dancing, 
“Nonsense! Men are not all so bad as they 
make them out, nor girls either. I would never 
dance with a man who was as bad as that. Don’t 
you think I’d like to hear of any man daring to 
talk in that way about me ? ” and her eyes would 
flash and she would hold her head high, and 
walk indignantly away ; while her satisfied, ig- 
norant little mother would look pleased, and 
smile and murmur, “No one would ever dare 
breathe an evil word in connection with my 
daughter. To the pure all things are pure,” 
and the matter would be dropped. 


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lyouise remembered several occasions when a 
maiden aunt had undertaken to make her mother 
believe that dancing schools were terrible places, 
and the mother had indignantly repudiated the 
idea and sent her daughter from the room, saying 
that her aunt’s talks and the selections she read 
from her various tracts were more contaminating 
for a young girl’s purity than if she danced all 
her life through. 

Now these things came back to her. It was 
true then that men talked about girls. Oh, it 
was awful to think that another man, and surely 
a good one, had heard them. Here I^ouise 
turned and stole a look at the outline of the face 
near her, clear-cut against the cold starry sky. 
There were purity, tenderness, and pity in his 
face. She could see that he wished with all his 
heart to atone in some way for the severity he 
had been obliged to use. But he kept a kindly 
silence for the most part, only once or twice say- 
ing a word about the snow, and once calling her 
attention to the view as they came in full sight 
of a lovely bit of landscape, the new moon 
hanging, starred about, above a little tree-fringed 
hill, a tiny dark house below with a speck of 
light in the window, and dark, bare poplars lift- 
ing their brown arms piteously against the lu- 
minous sky. 

As they neared the Benedict house Touise 


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279 


roused suddenly from her painful thoughts. She 
saw the many lights and knew there must be 
guests. 

“Oh, who is there?” she asked suddenly, put- 
ting out her hand to the reins to stop him, and 
quickly he obeyed her wish and stopped in the 
gateway. “ Have you strangers ? ” she asked. 

“No, only a few friends from the village,” he 
answered reassuringly. “ Your brother is there. 
They will be glad to see you. I shall say 
nothing to them.” 

“ Oh, no, I can’t go in,” said Louise shrinking 
back, “ not if my brother is there. I would not 
have him know for anything. I went to Brum- 
mels’ to spend the evening with Georgiana. He 
will think it strange and ask me questions. I can- 
not tell him now. Take me home, please. Or 
no ! Mother does not know. Oh, what shall I 
do ? ” She covered her face with her hands and 
cried outright. David sat only a moment re- 
garding her, and then suddenly taking up the 
reins he turned the cutter about and gave a word 
to his horses which made them fairly fly over the 
frozen snow. Louise looked up pretty soon and 
saw that they were not going home, and she did 
not know the direction. 

“ We are just taking a sleigh-ride,” answered 
David cheerily. “ Are you warm enough ? ” 
and he tucked the robes carefully about her 


IN THE WAY 


280 

again. “It is a beautiful night and perhaps 
this will be as pleasant a way as any for you to 
pass your time. At what hour does your mother 
expeet you to return ? You can go home then 
and simply say you have had a ride. If I had 
a mother I think I would tell her all about this, 
but I don’t suppose I am competent to advise, 
and I’ll fix it all right for you so that you can 
do as you please.” 

lyouise looked timidly up at him. He was 
very kind to her. Somehow she seemed to have 
grown very young and ignorant all at once and 
felt that he was some one to look up to. He 
seemed so strong and good and kind. 

“ It would frighten my mother terribly,” she 
said after a few minutes of thought. “ She 
doesn’t know the world much. My father 
shielded her from all knowledge of such things. 
She would think I had done some dreadful 
thing and could never be trusted again, and I 
am sure I don’t know that I can.” 

“You must not feel in that way,” said David 
earnestly. “You will be all the more careful now. 
You were taken care of. Some strange power 
that I did not understand made me go to the 
post office against my better judgment to-night, 
for I knew there was scarcely a possibility of 
there being anything in the office on a holiday 
evening.” Then a sudden flash illumined his 


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281 


face and he said solemnly and reverently and 
wonderingly, “ Maybe it was God. Miss Clifton, 
do yon know God? Are you what they call a 
Christian ? ” 

Louise sat in wonder. The question, the very 
question that she had sat in her room two days 
before and pondered whether she could ask of 
him. For she had actually considered whether 
she might not try a little real missionary work 
by finding out if religion was what he was sup- 
posed to need to make him a success in the 
world. It may seem strange that one who did 
not belong to Christ would care to try to bring 
another, but it is nevertheless true that some do. 
They see that religion is a good thing — or would 
be for another — and while they get along in the 
world very well themselves without it, they have 
kind-heartedness enough to make a little effort 
to help some one else get it. Louise decided 
that it would be a very novel and a very inter- 
esting thing to do, besides being a thing which 
would surprise and please her mother and brother 
and Ruth, and perhaps make them treat her 
with a little more respect. 

And now she found her heathen actually ask- 
ing the very question of his would-be missionary 
which she had half planned to ask of him if the 
opportunity ever offered. 

Altogether it was a strange ride and a strange 


282 


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talk those two had out under the starlight that 
Thanksgiving evening, but there will never come 
an anniversary of that day when they will cease 
to be thankful for the ride and the talk and the 
decisions that resulted therefrom. 

Louise found herself set down at her brother’s 
door at ten o’clock a crushed and meek little be- 
ing whose main desire was to get to her room 
and cry, and whose heart was burdened with the 
thought of the searching questions which had 
been asked her by one who did not know Christ 
himself yet, but was seeking to find him. 

When Alonzo Brummel returned from attend- 
ing to his horse and after making himself pre- 
sentable in the gentlemen’s dressing room went 
to the appointed spot to meet his young lady, and 
found her not, he concluded that she had grown 
tired of waiting and had probably gone into the 
main hall with some of the girls, as it was a 
very informal affair. He made his way slowly 
through the hall speaking in his patronizing way 
to this pretty girl and that whom he had known 
in his younger and less pompous days. He was 
puzzled as to what could have become of Louise. 
Just then Eliza Barnes, the girl of the hair curler 
in the dressing room, who had opened the door 
for David, accosted him. 

“ Hello ! there’s Lonnie Brummel, girls. Wait 


IN THE WAY 


283 


a minute ; I want to speak to him. Say, Lon, 
Miss Clifton’s gone. I thought you might be 
lookin’ fer her. I guess ’twas her brother come 
after her in a mighty big hurry, and she looked 
scared enough. Dave Benedict brought the 
word in for her to come right out. I s’pose the 
minister didn’t want to come into the hall. He 
hustled her into a sleigh and drove off quick 
and slick. I peeped through the curtains and 
seen ’em myself.” 

Alonzo Brummel uttered a word under his 
breath that he would scarcely have liked to 
speak before the minister’s sister ; but finding 
that he was hopelessly left to his own resources 
he set about finding the prettiest and silliest 
girls in the room and having as good a time as 
possible, going home somewhat later than he 
had planned to take Miss Clifton away, it must 
be confessed, and letting himself quietly into his 
father’s house by a way known to his younger 
days when his mother kept a more strict watch 
over his bedroom door than could have been 
desired. He received, however, the next morn- 
ing, a stiff, violet-scented note informing him 
that Miss Clifton begged his pardon for having 
left him so abruptly the evening before, and 
desired to explain that she had been called for 
in great haste and had not had time to leave 
any word for him. It was so altogether cutting 


284 


IN THE WAY 


and summary in its tone that Alonzo Brnmmel 
decided to spend the remainder of his vacation 
with a friend in New York, and he departed that 
day for a more genial atmosphere. He did not 
just care to be at home when his mother should 
discover where he had been spending his time 
the evening before. 

When David reached home at last he found 
that the guests were preparing to take their 
departure. Indeed, Joseph had been much wor- 
ried to know how he was to get Ellen Amelia 
home without the horses and the cutter. 

When the last one had gone and David had 
helped to put Miss Haskins into the cutter and 
watched them drive away, he turned back and 
stood by his sister Ruth, his face deeply serious. 

“ Ruth,” said he, and she knew by his tone 
that he had something to tell her which meant 
more to him than anything he had ever said to 
her before. “ Ruth, you pray, I know. I want 
yon to pray for a — for some one who needs help 
very much, some one who doesn’t know how to 
pray.” 

Ruth looked up quickly, her face lighting 
with glad surprise. 

“ O David,” said she, “ do you love Jesus ? 
And is it yourself you mean? I will gladly, but 
why don’t you pray too ? ” 

“No, I don’t think I know JCvSus yet,” he an- 


IN THE WAY 


285 


swered simply, as a little child might ; “ but I 
want to. I mean to,” he added with emphasis, 
“and I’d like you to pray for me too, if you will. 
But this other one is a woman, and she hasn’t 
anything to stay her life on. I shall try to pray 
for her myself, but I wanted you to help. You 
know how better than I. She needs it very much. 
And Ruth, you thought it was queer, I suppose, 
that I stayed away so long to-night ; but I want 
you to know I had to. No, I didn’t go to that 
ball,” he said as he caught a shade of anxiety 
across her face. “I was afraid you’d think I did, 
but I’m not that kind. I had to keep some one 
else away. If God ever sent any one anywhere 
he certainly sent me downtown this evening.” 

He took his sister’s hand and stooped and 
kissed her on the forehead, and then went up- 
stairs to his room. 

And as Ruth went to her room to pray as she 
had promised, she carried a worry in her heart. 
What village girl had gotten a hold upon David ? 
Was there some one then who would be a drag 
upon him ? Had his heart already been entan- 
gled ? She had grown to love her brother David 
very deeply. She sighed and wondered and 
wished, and then she prayed, and as she prayed 
the weight passed away from her heart and she 
rejoiced ; for was not David seeking for Jesus ? 
And a voice had whispered behind her : 


286 


IN THK WAY 


Fearest sometimes that thy Father 
Hath forgot? 

When the clouds around thee gather, 
Doubt him not ! 

Always hath the daylight broken — 
Always hath he comfort spoken — 
Better hath he been for years. 

Than thy fears. 


CHAPTER XXI 


E llen amelia had been very quiet dur- 
ing the entire evening spent at the Bene- 
dict Thanksgiving party. She did not seem to 
recover from the successive humiliations which 
had brought her here in quiet and accustomed 
clothing. Her usually gay and voluble tongue 
was so still that the other girls asked her if she 
was sick, and Ruth looked at her in a troubled 
way many times fearing that Ellen was disap- 
pointed because she had not gone to the ball in- 
stead of coming to her. 

Joseph too watched her in a kind of maze. 
He had not been at church the Sunday preced- 
ing and therefore the effect of the new dark blue 
dress was particularly bewildering. He was 
hardly sure he knew Ellen Amelia. She cer- 
tainly did not look like the same girl he had 
known all his life and gone to school with, and, 
it must be confessed, at whose follies he had 
laughed many times. 

What had she done ? He was not well enough 
versed in the art of dress to lay it all to that. 
The pink tarletan had dazzled him, but the whole 
question of apparel appeared in a new light when 

287 


288 


IN THE WAY 


he had noted the marked change in Ellen Amelia 
wrought, as he had presently to acknowledge to 
himself, by the donning of a new gown and, most 
mysterious of all, one not at all extraordinary 
either in fashion or in material. He could not 
understand why one dress rather than another 
should make a person’s appearance so different. 
He did not know that there was all the difference 
in the world between a dress that fitted the form 
and one that did not. Neither did he reckon on 
graceful folds and lines that curved just right, nor 
— and perhaps this made the most difference of 
all — upon the soft waves of hair about her face 
and the low coil behind, which just fitted her 
face, in place of the hard unbecoming knot and 
tight frizzes which she had hitherto supposed to 
be the height of fashion. Ruth had somehow 
managed to get in a lesson in hair-dressing with 
all the rest, and the result was a much more 
pleasing Ellen Amelia. Joseph looked at her as 
she sat in the big chair in the corner and thought 
she was not unpleasing. Indeed, on second 
thought he was not sure that she was not pretty. 
If she was not so awfully silly he did not know 
but she would be interesting, but as it was he 
did not understand how Ruth could waste her 
time on her. He wondered for the hundredth 
time why Ruth did it, and then the thought came 
and softened his expression, “ She does it for 


IN THE WAY 


289 


Christ’s sake,” and he thought perhaps he would 
like to help her, or some one, for that reason. 

The minister had interrupted his thoughts just 
then, sitting down beside him and gradually 
drawing him out with stories of his own life. 
He asked Joseph about his school days and drew 
from him the wish that he could have kept on 
with hisstudies. “ Father always meant I should,” 
he said suddenly with an impulse of confidence 
in the man who seemed to be so interested in 
him. “ And my brother was anxious for it too. 
He had two years at the academy in the city, you 
know. But we both agreed that I ought not to 
do it till the farm was clear of the mortgage, and 
now that it’s out of the way I’ve grown too old.” 
He heaved a little sigh of regret, like the wind- 
ing sheet to his desire, and seemed to lay the 
subject away. Not so the minister : 

“ Not a bit of it. One is never too old to learn. 
Why, man, you have so much to learn, and if you 
don’t do it here you’ll have to waste a great many 
years of eternity learning it. Hearn what you 
can now.” There followed a quick succession of 
questions on the part of the minister and answers 
by Joseph. 

“ Well,” said the minister straightening up at 
last, an eager light in his eyes, “ there is no reason 
why you shouldn’t catch up soon if you want to, 
and go on to college. I had no idea the schools 

T 


290 


IN THE WAY 


in Suminerton carried one so far. Now, if you 
would really like to go on with your studies I 
should be delighted to help you. You know I’m 
not long from college and I love to teach. You’ll 
have plenty of time these long winter evenings, 
and if you make good use of them who knows 
but you might be ready to enter college by next 
fall? I’m not saying you could, you know, for I 
haven’t examined you yet ; but you might. 
Stranger things have happened. Will you do it ? ” 
“ Do you mean,” said Joseph his eyes burning 
with excitement and his hands clenched in his 
earnestness, “ do you really mean you think I 
could make something of myself in the world ? ” 
“ I certainly do,” answered the minister. 
Joseph was so occupied with the wonderful 
new thoughts that the minister had awakened in 
him and the stirring of old ambitions, that he 
scarcely noticed Ellen Amelia till they were half- 
way home. Then she aroused from her silence 
and made a remark. 

“ I wish I could get away from Suminerton, 
and learn something and be somebody ! ” 

It was said half fiercely, and not in the least 
as if she expected an ansv.^er, but more as if she 
were thinking aloud. But there was a note in 
her words which appealed to Joseph. He had 
had these very same feelings before Ruth had 
come to them to make home something worth 


IN THE WAY 


291 


while, and even now his sister’s sweetness and 
brightness made him long to do something to 
make himself more on a plane with her intellec- 
tually. N ow this evening a way had been opened, 
a hope that after all he might possibly be some- 
thing more than he was, and in his exultation he 
felt a sympathy for this girl beside him who 
had the same desires and no hope of their ful- 
fillment, for of course Ellen Amelia had no possi- 
bility before her but to live and die in Summerton. 
He tried to arouse himself from his own pleasant 
thoughts and say something to comfort her, even 
as the minister had brought hope to him, but 
what could he say ? He could not promise to 
help her, for she had been through the same 
schools in which he had been graduated. She 
was as far advanced as he. “ Couldn’t you get 
some book to read?” he offered lamely as an al- 
ternative in place of going away. 

“Where would I get books, and how would I 
know what to read ? I’ve read all my life, and 
it only seems to make me more unhappy. Ma 
don’t like me to read, anyway. Sometimes I 
think I’ll just give up and never touch a 
book again, if that’s what she wants, and go into 
the kitchen and never do another thing but bake 
and scrub and wash dishes the rest of my life. 
I don’t see how I’m a-going to keep that promise 
I made to you, anyway. There isn’t any chance 


292 


IN THE WAY 


at home. I s’pose, to be good, one ought to be 
willing to do all sorts of ugly things and not 
care, and not ever want anything else ; but I 
can’t help wanting other things. I’d like to do 
something big and grand. I s’pose I ain’t fit ; 
but I’d be willing to go through most anything 
to make me fit, if there was a chance for any- 
thing better than just what all the Summerton 
girls live for.” 

“ I s’pose,” said Joseph, speaking slowly, as if 
he were treading on unfamiliar ground and must 
choose his words carefully, “ that if you do the 
best you can, God will see to the rest. The 
Bible talks like that, and most all sermons say 
so, and it seems as if the Christians professed 
to believe that, though to be sure there don’t 
many of them act as though they remembered it. 
But look here. Miss Ellen, let us be different 
from that sort of Christians. If the thing’s 
worth doing at all, let us do it as well as it can be 
done by us. It seems to me, it isn’t fair to God 
not to do our best. Then, if he’s anything, he’s 
to be trusted to bring it out straight, somehow. 
I s’pose if he wants you to do some grand work 
in the world, he could fix it out so you could 
manage to do it ; but if I was you, I’d do first 
the little things at home he’s given you. I tried 
to find a place last night I used to hear father 
read at prayers sometimes when I was a little 


IN THE WAY 


293 


chap, about being faithful in little things and 
then you’d get to be a ruler over a good deal 
more, perhaps, sometime. Anyhow, if I was 
you I’d try it.” 

“ I will,” said Ellen Amelia, with her usual 
prompt decision. “I’ll begin to-morrow morning 
and darn every stocking in mother’s basket be- 
fore I touch my paper that comes in the morn- 
ing mail.” 

They were at her father’s door by this time, 
and as Joseph helped her out and turned his 
horses homeward once more, he felt a sense of 
exultation that the little work he had tried to do 
for Ellen Amelia had not been wholly without 
effect. There was a new kind of joy in doing 
this sort of thing, which is given to souls who 
labor to help others, and which made him long 
to do more for his new Master. He mused over 
what the girl had said as he put the horses up 
and wondered what kind of a paper she took, 
and thought he would ask her sometime. She 
might be more advanced than he knew. He 
had never dreamed that she took a paper all her- 
self. But he decided that in all probability it 
was a fashion paper. 

With much excitement and eagerness he went 
on the appointed evening to meet the minister 
and take his first lesson in Latin. He had no? 
told Ruth nor David yet. He wished to see 


294 


IN THE WAY 


whether he could really do anything at it first. 
He was charmed with the lesson. And indeed 
he might well have been had he possessed a mind 
even less eager for knowledge than his really 
was, for Robert Clifton was a teacher of no mean 
ability. He had considered seriously at one time 
whether he would not let his passion for teach- 
ing have the mastery over his life, but the Rord 
had called in the direction of the ministry, and 
he had obeyed. Ruth would have been aston- 
ished to know that a little word of hers, spoken 
unwittingly at a time when he was unsettled 
about the matter in that summer of their meet- 
ing long ago, had sent the final conviction to his 
heart that his Master wished him to work as a 
minister. 

The hour of the lesson was long drawn out, 
and neither teacher nor pupil was willing to 
stop when the clock struck a warning hour. 
Mrs. Clifton wondered what in the world Robert 
could be doing with that young man in the study 
so long, and wished that — if it was true, as he 
said, that the fellow was worth anything at all — 
he would have thoughtfulness enough to bring 
him downstairs to talk a little while to his sister. 
Louise was very restless and unhappy. She 
tried to read and to play and to embroider, and 
finally, after sitting for a few moments in every 
chair in the room, had retired. Mrs. Clifton 


IN THE WAY 


295 


sighed and wondered how long she was going to 
be able to keep Louise in this little town, and 
half wished Robert would get married, that she 
might take Louise where she would not feel 
hampered by her brother’s profession. 

But the young man was allowed to depart 
finally without having even been brought into 
the parlor, and Mrs. Clifton retired, with her 
curiosity unsatisfied. 

As Joseph walked homeward that night, his 
busy thoughts went far ahead of the present, and 
he pictured to himself many things he would do 
in the world with the knowledge he should 
acquire. Summerton was asleep, for the hour 
was late. As he passed Deacon Haskins’ house, 
a sudden thought struck him. He stopped short 
and looked up at the house. “ Maybe I might,” 
he soliloquized aloud. “ If I thought He wanted 
me to I would.” He walked on after that, look- 
ing up at the clear starlit sky and letting his 
soul reach out behind that “dim unknown.” 
He had read Lowell’s great poem not many days 
before, and admired it, and certain lines of it 
came to him now. He wondered if God was 
really there behind the dim unknown, standing 
within the shadow, keeping watch above his 
own. He wished, as many another has wished, 
that he could see him once, and be sure — sure 
beyond the possibility of a doubt — that God did 


IN THE WAY 


296 

care for little things that people did and said. 
And there came to him through the still mid- 
night a conviction that God did care. 

It was the very next evening that Joseph 
Benedict presented himself at Deacon Haskins’ 
door and asked for the daughter of the house. 
Her mother called her, and herself gave her the 
sitting-room lamp to carry into the parlor ; but 
when an hour had passed and there seemed to 
be no sign of the visitor taking his leave, she 
thought it high time to do something. She 
cautiously opened the parlor door, and to her 
horror saw Joseph and Ellen Amelia bending 
their heads together over a book. They did not 
see her, nor apparently hear her, as she opened 
the door, and went on with earnest talk about 
some jargon she did not in the least understand. 
She stood contemplating them for a moment, 
and then as softly shut the door and turned away. 
She sat down at her sewing again, but there was 
a compressed look about her mouth, as if she 
knew something and had surmised a good deal 
more, though she said nothing. When Joseph 
went away, which he did in a few minutes, for 
he was in a hurry to get back to his own study, 
Ellen Amelia lingered in the chilly haircloth 
parlor, and her mother, going in search of her, 
found her poring over a paper, upon which were 
carefully written rows of words. 


IN THE WAY 


297 


“ Ellen ’Melya, what on earth has possession 
of yon ? I should like to know what that Bene- 
dic’ girl has on hand now? I do wish you’d 
come out here and finish up that job of mending 
you begun. I’ve got to have them things right 
away.” 

The daughter came and sewed quietly for the 
remainder of the evening, only answering ab- 
stractedly, “ It’s Latin, mother. I’m studying 
Latin.” But from time to time as she sewed 
she glanced at the paper in her lap and her lips 
moved constantly. Mrs. Haskins looked at her 
eldest child with trouble in her eyes. 

“ I’m just that troubled about her I can’t 
sleep,” she remarked to her mother the next day. 
“ She goes around mumbling all the time, mo^ 
a mass^ a mat? I’m sure I don’t know what 
high-flown notion ’ll take her next. If she 
wanted to study she could have done it some 
other way than getting a young know-nothin’ 
of a fellow to teach what he don’t know himself. 
I don’t know but I’d rather she’d have even 
gone to that ball with the Brower boy. He at 
least looks decent. And after she got her dress 
made and all ! ” 

But Ellen Amelia was engrossed in Latin and 
saw nothing else that went on, though she did 
honestly try to do her best in everything that 
came to her hand. This Latin was something 


IN THE WAY 


298 

that came nearly up to the measure of her 
heart’s desire. Joseph had promised to give her 
every lesson he took himself, and while she 
knew very well that he was not doing it on her 
account at all, but only for the sake of doing his 
best to keep his part of the promise, she meekly 
accepted the help she got and began to look 
up to and admire her teacher with a kind of awe 
mingled with deep respect. 

Things went on at this rate for about six or 
eight weeks, and at last Mother Haskins got the 
deacon sufficiently aroused to the danger of his 
daughter’s present amusements to send her to 
West Winterton to the academy. Ellen Amelia 
was perhaps a little disappointed to give up her 
Latin lessons, but she was told that Latin was 
taught there and that by real teachers, and was 
bidden look upon the added advantages of the 
other studies she would have. So she stifled the 
wish she felt to have things to go on as they 
were, and managed to feel a degree of the grati- 
tude that would have been hers a half-year be- 
fore, and took her departure, leaving Joseph free 
to use all his time in study. He felt relieved at 
first to find that the task he had set himself was 
no longer required of him, but after a few days 
he began to miss the pleasure he had had in 
imparting knowledge to this eager learner, and 
to think it might even be an advantage to him 


IN THE WAY 


299 


to teach some one else, for in teaching he learned 
so much himself, and so he looked about for 
another pupil. Ellen Amelia came home every 
Friday now and saw Joseph across the church 
every Sunday, and once he bowed and asked her 
how she was getting on in her studies. She 
remembered that bow with pleasure, for there 
seemed to be a touch of the courteous respect in 
it which he gave to his own sister. 

The communion occurred soon after she had 
begun to attend the West Winterton Academy, 
and Ellen Amelia, David and Joseph Benedict, 
were among those who, having publicly professed 
their faith in the Eord Jesus, were welcomed to 
membership. This first accession to the church 
since the coming of the new pastor created a stir 
of astonishment in the community. It was long 
since there had been any one to unite with their 
church save an occasional person by letter from 
the city. The young people had almost with- 
out exception remained outside the church. 
Now to see them coming in so willingly, nay 
eagerly, made their elders ask, “What is it?” 
There had been no special services as yet, only 
the earnest preaching of the conscientious young 
pastor. They did not know of the quiet, heart- 
to-heart talks he had taken time for, with this 
one and that. They only saw the results. Men 
who had heretofore stayed at home on Sunday 


300 


IN THE WAY 


now were uniting with God’s church. David 
Benedict was generally supposed to be somewhat 
indifferent, if not slightly infidel in his tenden- 
cies ; but yet he had been the first to offer him- 
self, even before the meeting at which the invi- 
tation had been given, and his brother had not 
been far behind. The deacons shook their heads 
and said they did not know about taking in peo- 
ple in such a wholesale way, to be put out per- 
haps in a year or two, or else be a dead weight 
to the church ; and Deacon Chatterton allowed 
that in his opinion the examination ought to be 
a very rigid one. He certainly did his part to 
make it as much of an ordeal as possible. Poor 
Ellen Amelia Haskins felt that there were no 
more trials left in life for her worth mentioning 
when she came out of that lecture room. She 
trembled from head to foot and her face was al- 
most as white as her handkerchief. Mrs. Chatter- 
ton never quite understood how it was that all 
her prophecies concerning the harm that Bene- 
dict girl would do in Summerton and in her own 
home never came to anything. She looked with 
doubt on the three young people as they stood 
together in the front of the church. She would 
not believe that there would not come retribu- 
tion of some sort upon them all, just for what, 
she did not state even to herself. 

Ruth was very happy. She had longed and 


IN THE WAY 


301 


prayed that her brothers might find Jesus and 
yet she had hardly hoped that they would come 
so soon. After that Thanksgiving night when 
David had asked her to pray for some one, she 
had been able to talk with him about being a 
Christian. They had had many long -talks to- 
gether and David had ended by becoming a 
simple-hearted, earnest Christian, giving himself 
to God as a little child might do, and having the 
glad heart-rejoicing just as a child rejoices over 
his sins forgiven. He was so happy he went 
about singing and whistling all the time. There 
seemed to be a bond warm and deep between 
the brother and sister now which never could be 
broken. They had begun at once to pray for 
Joseph, claiming the promise “If two of you 
shall agree on earth as touching anything that 
they shall ask, it shall be done for them,” never 
knowing that their prayer was already answered 
and that Joseph was trying every day to walk in 
the straight and narrow way. David and Ruth 
had been sitting together in the twilight of the 
Sunday afternoon talking about their brother. 
They were worried about him lately. He spent 
a great many evenings away from the house and 
never explained where he went. He seemed 
much absorbed in something too. Ruth won- 
dered if it could be one of the village girls. She 
was always a little troubled about those village 


302 


IN THE WAY 


girls. Just as they were saying that they must 
tell Joseph about their intention to unite with 
the church next Sabbath, he entered the room 
and, sitting down beside Ruth, began in his 
straightforward way to say what he had come 
to tell them. 

“ I wanted you to know beforehand,” he said, 
“ that I am going to unite with the church. 
I’ve been thinking about it a long time and I’m 
going to do it now.” 

Before he had finished speaking, David had 
grasped him by the hand and there was a pleas- 
ant surprise for Joseph to find that his elder 
brother was already a Christian. “ Before they 
call, I will answer ; and while they are yet speak- 
ing, I will hear,” repeated Ruth solemnly. 

And that night there was a family altar set 
up in the Benedict home, and from it went up 
prayers of thanksgiving and praise. There must 
have been joy around the throne of God and 
among the angels in heaven and among the 
saved ones there, for the father and mother 
surely were permitted to look down to earth and 
know that their two boys would meet them by 
and by, and that it was through the agency of 
their dear daughter. 


CHAPTER XXII 


E llen amelia HASKINS was certainly 

changing greatly. Her mother noticed 
that she was quieter and more willing to help 
when she came home Friday nights. She really 
began to have hope that her daughter would 
settle down and be like other girls. She still 
read books to be sure, but they were solid-look- 
ing study books. There came no more illus- 
trated story papers into the house. They had 
ceased suddenly, shortly after Ellen Amelia be- 
gan the study of Latin. Mrs. Haskins supposed 
that the deacon had “ braced up ’’ at last, and 
heeded her many injunctions to stop the paper ; 
but the truth was that Joseph Benedict had 
asked her what paper it was she took that she 
had mentioned to him the other night, and she 
had triumphantly displayed the latest arrival to 
him, whereupon his decided face took on a de- 
cided frown, and he tore the paper in half and 
told her it was not fit for her to read. Ellen 
Amelia was dismayed, but by this time Latin 
and her teacher had such a hold upon her that 
she did not say him nay, and after a good cry 
by herself, and a good deal of faltering resolu- 


304 


IN THE WAY 


tion, she wrote a letter and stopped her paper 
nine weeks before its subscription ran out. And 
when in dne course of time her father had asked 
her if it wasn’t about time she needed to fix up 
that paper business for another year, and secretly 
handed out the money with a confidential nod, 
she surprised him by saying that she wouldn’t 
take the paper any more, but if he would just 
as soon she would take the money for a study 
book she needed very much. 

Her father and mother had 'been much sur- 
prised and pleased when she united with the 
church, though her mother’s expression of it to 
her was that she was “ sure Ellen Amelia hadn’t 
acted much like a Christian durin’ the past y^ear, 
but she hoped they’d see a change now.” And 
Ellen had made up her mind that not only they 
but God should see a change in her. And they 
did, although it did not come all at once. She 
was still Ellen Amelia. She still showed much 
silliness. It was not to be expected that her 
habits of thought could change all at once. But 
God and his workers were molding her for her 
place in the world, and although she did not see 
it, wonderful things were in preparation for her. 

Out of the Thanksgiving party had grown a 
permanent source of culture and growth, not 
only to Ellen Amelia, but to many other of the 
young girls in Summerton, beginning with Ruth 


IN THK WAY 


305 


Benedict’s Sunday-school class. Something had 
been said about Kllen Amelia’s new dress, and 
it had been admired openly by the other girls. 
Ruth answered brightly, “Yes, isn’t it pretty? 
And she made it herself too.” The girls ex- 
claimed over this, and would have been almost 
inclined to doubt it had any other than Miss 
Benedict made the statement. But Ellen Ame- 
lia with her native honesty came to the front at 
once : 

“ Yes ; I made it myself after I was taught. 
Girls, you don’t know what a teacher we’ve got. 
She can do anything. She showed me how to 
cut and fit this dress, and helped sew it. I think 
it would be a good deal honester myself to say 
she made it and I helped a little, but she insists 
that I did it.” 

The other girls admired more, and wistfully 
wished they could have something as nice, and 
before the evening was over Miss Benedict had 
an eager class in dressmaking, all ready to begin 
work whenever she should set the day. Ruth 
sighed when she went to her room that night, to 
think how much more eager they were to learn 
dressmaking than they had been to take up 
some extra Bible study she had suggested. She 
wondered if maybe she was doing right to go 
on and get them interested in things of the 
world ? Might it not take their thoughts from 


IN THE WAY 


306 

higher things? These things were important, 
of course, but were they worth while if they 
took the entire attention ? She pondered long 
over the question, but at last decided that it was 
worth while, and that she felt she might be able 
to make the class profitable in other ways, as 
well as to teach the girls how to make pretty 
dresses well and economically. 

And so the class began in a large upper room 
which Ruth had decided should be used for any 
Christian work the Lord sent to her. It had 
been used as an attic, and had never been en- 
tirely finished off, for the rafters and beams were 
uncovered. But the ceiling was high, and the 
windows large and many. Ruth saw possibili- 
ties for a gymnasium and many other things as 
well as dressmaking classes. David, her helper 
now in all good schemes, and more than that, a 
believer in her schemes — for it is a great thing to 
have one person who believes in you, when you 
have a plan to carry out — made several long, 
strong tables, rough but serviceable, and one 
bright Saturday morning the girls, including 
Ellen Amelia, gathered there with scissors and 
thimble and cloth and thread, prepared to do as 
they were bidden. The first lesson proved a 
success. The girls were wild over their work, 
and would have been delighted to meet oftener. 
They were given a certain amount of sewing 


IN THK WAY 


307 


each to have finished before the next lesson. 
While they sewed they talked, and the talk ran 
on various themes, all suggested by the girls, 
but guided by Ruth. 

“Miss Ruth,” said Effie Haines, a pretty but- 
terfly sort of girl who hummed from one thing 
to another, like a bee among the flowers, and 
who was very fond of brightness and fun, 
“ Miss Ruth, you didn’t go to the ball the other 
night, and you didn’t want any of us to go ; we 
know that, but would you please tell us just all 
the reasons why ? I know some people say 
dancing is wicked, but I never knew why. Do 
you think it is ? ” 

“Not in the least,” answered Ruth smiling, at 
which every girl in the room stopped sewing, 
and opened her eyes wide in amazement. 

“ You don’t ! ” ejaculated Ellen Amelia. 

“Why, I thought — ^Joesa ” then she stopped 

unnoticed, but the red blood stole up in her 
cheeks, and she said no more. 

“ Why, no ; of course not,” answered Ruth 
innocently. “What possible harm could there 
be in getting up on the floor and hopping 
around ? ” 

They all laughed uneasily, feeling certain 
that there was a catch somewhere. 

“ They danced in the Bible, you know,” said 
Ruth, “ and danced unto the Lord. There were 


IN THE WAY 


308 

a great many times when dancing was used as 
praise to God in the old days. It’s a pity it 
wasn’t used more nowadays that way.” Ruth 
went quietly on with her sewing, as if she had 
said the most commonplace thing. 

The girls could not see whither she was lead- 
ing them and Effie Haines protested. “ But, 
Miss Ruth, that isn’t real dancing; they just 
danced around with timbrels all alone.” 

“ Well, we use a piano. What’s the differ- 
ence ? A piano isn’t wicked, is it ? ” 

The girls laughed embarrassedly now. Ruth 
saw that they did not know what to answer her. 

“Dear girls,” she said, “you asked me an 
honest question and I answered it honestly. I 
do think that dancing as it is carried on to-day 
is wrong, and not only wrong, but exceedingly 
dangerous. I do not believe that dancing just 
of itself is wicked, and by that I mean whirling 
around to music just from pure joy in life. But 
I know that you meant more than that by your 
question. You meant to ask me whether I 
would dance myself, and whether I would ad- 
vise you to dance, and I say no to that, most de- 
cidedly. The dangers that lurk in dancing are 
so great that it seems to me one is only safe to 
let it entirely alone in every form. You see 
dancing nowadays isn’t merely hopping about 
alone as Effie has said. It means hopping 


IN THE WAY 


309 


around with some one else, and that some one 
else is sometimes a man. Now tell me honestly 
girls, would you, any of you, allow a man under 
any other circumstances, unless you were en- 
gaged or married to him of course, to take such 
liberties with you as are allowed in dancing?” 
The girls looked down at their work and their 
cheeks grew a shade redder. All of them had 
not had such careful teaching as had their 
teacher, but they knew what she meant, and if 
some few of them had occasionally allowed a 
young man to hold their hands in the dark on 
their way home from meeting, and to kiss them 
at the gate just for fun occasionally, they were 
ashamed of it now, and hoped Miss Ruth would 
never find it out, and resolved never to allow 
such a liberty again. 

And then Ruth entered into a serious talk 
which would have done credit to a wiser head 
than her own. She told them solemnly what a 
wonderful, awful power was this gift of God, 
this influence of woman over man, and man 
over woman. She reminded them that when 
they came to give their earthly lives into the 
keeping of some man who was all the world to 
them, they would want to bring hands unsoiled 
by the touch of other men, and lips unkissed by 
any other half-love or play love. The girls sat 
back and neglected their work while they 


310 


IN THE WAY 


watched her earnest face and drank in her words. 
They had never heard such talk before and it 
appealed to the best that was in their natures. 

Ellen Amelia, watching her, made up her 
mind that here was a higher ideal of manhood 
and womanhood than any which she had ever 
found in the columns of her weekly story paper. 

“ My goodness ! ” said Effie Haines thought- 
fully as she wended her way home with the rest 
of the girls. “ It must be an awful lot of trouble 
to live with all those ideas ; but they’re lovely 
though, aren’t they, girls ? Isn’t she good ! 
My ! I wish I was like her.” 

That was the first talk they had. Thereafter 
it became a regular thing after the special lesson 
in eutting or fitting had been given for the day, 
to ask questions. Sometimes the questions were 
written, and the themes discussed were as various 
as the characters of the girls. The mysteries of 
love, the sacredness of marriage, were themes 
which interested these girls, who discovered 
that they truly wanted to find out the right 
about everything. Not that Ruth laid down 
her way of thinking as law to them. She only 
talked over things and suggested reasons to 
them. Sometimes she read a selection from 
some good writer bearing on their topic. Some- 
times she was ready with clippings from the 
newspapers and quotations from the encyclopse- 


IN THE WAY 


31I 

dia to prove certain facts which they had never 
heard of before. She was teaching these girls 
to think, and to reason out right and wrong for 
themselves, and above all she had the Bible to 
refer to constantly. Sometimes the girls had 
dainty cards given them containing a single 
verse which answered a question they had asked 
at the last Saturday class. The class grew larger 
and the members were quite regular. When 
Ruth found that they all loved dancing so, and 
that the mere motion to music was pleasure to 
them, she suggested some gymnastics, and at a 
certain hour the various gowns and other gar- 
ments upon which they had been working were 
laid aside and they all stood up in the great 
attic room and went through some most delight- 
ful exercises which were utterly new to them. 
Ruth was an adept in all sorts of gymnastics, 
and made the little work she gave them intensely 
interesting as well as profitable physically to 
them. This last feature of the class took like 
wildfire in Summerton. The girls told their 
friends of course, and every girl in town was 
crazy to join. Ruth was flooded with petitions 
from interested mothers and eager girls, and at 
last a class was formed in the town hall, and a 
piano and an accompanist hired. “I can do 
some good and gain some influence by it per- 
haps, and certainly I can give them something 


312 


IN THE WAY 


delightful which may take the place of danc- 
ing,” she said to herself, and she went to her 
class feeling that her Master had called her to 
it. 

Deacon Chatterton shook his head of course 
and declared it was all wrong and just as bad as 
dancing — frivolous, wicked to waste time in 
such useless ways — and no good would come 
of it. 

A 

But many and many a time Ruth had oppor- 
tunity before or after her class, when she was 
helping some girl in a particularly difficult turn 
with the Indian clubs, or the dumb-bells, to get 
in a little word about her longing to have the 
girl give herself to Jesus, and many a one first 
found Jesus Christ in the old town hall, sitting 
in a darkening corner late in the afternoon after 
the rest of the class had gone, and talking in 
low tones with the earnest-faced little teacher. 

The dressmaking-class was confined, however, 
to Ruth’s own Sunday-school class, and the ear- 
nest talks over the sewing were long to be re- 
membered by all of them. There came a day 
too when Ruth ventured a new plan. Just be- 
fore they were folding their work to go home 
she said : 

“Girls, I wish you would kneel down with 
me here and let us have a little prayer meeting 
together. I know I am asking something un- 


IN THE WAY 


313 


usual, but I would like it so much. You know 
IVe been praying for you all ever since I took 
the class, and isn’t it about time you helped 
me? Some of you don’t belong to Jesus. I do 
want you to know him right away. Can’t we 
just kneel down here together and will you try 
to think God is here and you could see him if 
you looked up, and then will you each ask of 
him what you most want ? I don’t want to force 
any of you to pray, of course, if you are not 
willing, and I don’t want any of you to do it 
just because I ask. If you have nothing in 
your heart to say, then never mind ; but I think 
you all could say, ‘Dear Jesus, I want to be 
saved,’ or ‘ Dear Lord, show me the way to thee.’ 
Ellen, dear, will you pray first and will the 
others follow right around the room, please ? ” 
And then as quietly as if she had been asking 
them to cut a skirt lining this peculiar girl 
knelt down and waited. 

Her tone had been so every-day and matter- 
of-course that not one of them had thought to 
demur. Indeed they were too frightened to do 
so, had she given them a chance. They knelt 
quickly to get away from their own embarrass- 
ment. 

Poor Ellen Amelia Haskins knelt, her heart 
beating faster than she had ever known it to do 
before, and wondered what she should say. There 


314 


IN THE WAY 


was an element of the dramatic and noble which 
would have struck her in this strange scene if 
she had not been a part of it, but as it was there 
suddenly came to her a sense of her utter inad- 
equateness to fill the position required of her. 
And yet she was a professed Christian. She 
knelt and waited, and Ruth’s words came to 
her : “ Try to think God is here and you could 
see him if you looked up.” Then she was 
ashamed that she had no words for the great 
God, and she choked and the tears came, and at 
last in desperation she stumbled out the words, 
“O God, forgive me!” There were pauses, and 
then the others, all but two, asked something — 
some humble, frightened petition. And after 
Ruth had prayed a few words which seemed to 
bring the realization of Christ’s presence plainly 
to their minds they rose with tears on their 
cheeks. 

“ I think that was the first time I ever really 
prayed,” whispered Effie Haines as she took 
her leave, pressing her tear- wet face on Ruth’s 
shoulder ; “lam glad I did it. Maybe I’ll try 
again.” 

And that was not the last little prayer meet- 
ing that ended a day of dressmaking at the Ben- 
edict farm, for that was where Ellen Haskins 
learned to pray. 

But Eouise Clifton had gone to New York on 


IN THE WAY 


315 


a visit shortly after Thanksgiving, to get rid of 
her troublesome thoughts, and indulge some 
of her worldly longings, and she was not a part 
of all this. It seemed a pity to David, looking 
on, that the one for whom he was praying with 
strong, deep desire, earnest purpose, and firm be- 
lief, should have been allowed to go away just 
now when she might have been drawn into this 
tide of helpfulness that was sweeping through 
the village. He thought a good deal about it 
sometimes, and when he came to pray he was 
troubled to find a questioning note of the wis- 
dom of God’s planning in this particular case, 
and then he pulled himself up short and said : 
‘‘ See here, David Benedict, are you running 
this, or is God? Don’t you suppose God knew 
and loved this bright, sweet girl before ever you 
knew there was such a being, and before ever 
you found out what danger there was surround- 
ing her? Now you just let things alone and 
God will manage. If you do your part God will 
surely do his.” 

But always he prayed night and morning that 
God’s angels would surround her and guard her 
feet from temptation. , And his prayer was an- 
swered. Louise had sought to do this and that 
thing to amuse and distract her, and was con- 
stantly foiled in her attempts. There was some- 
thing strange about it. Accident or weather or 


IN THE WAY 


316 

the sudden illness of a friend would keep her 
away from places she most desired to attend. 
When she did succeed in going, troublesome 
thoughts would seize upon her and destroy all 
pleasure in what she heard or saw. She began 
to feel like a child and to wish for her mother. 
Her nerves seemed all unstrung. In truth she 
was not well, and constantly her mind would go 
back with shame to that uncomfortable night 
when David Benedict had been obliged to kid- 
nap her and carry her off like a little child to 
save her from a terrible danger into which she 
had foolishly thrown herself in her ignorance. 

Once at a concert she saw Alonzo Brummel 
in the distance, and he came over to her and 
tried to appear upon very intimate terms with 
her, but she fairly froze him with her coolness, 
until her friend Fannie Gleason, whom she was 
visiting, said : 

“What is the matter with the poor little man, 
Lou dear? You were very hard on him. I quite 
liked him. He was real bright and handsome, 
and was elegantly dressed. Who is he ? ” 

And that night Louise Clifton wrote to her 
mother that she would like to come home at 


once. 


CHAPTER XXIII 



HERE was a large religious gathering in 


-L session for two days in the city near Sum- 
inerton, and thither Robert Clifton and David 
Benedict had gone. They had arranged to spend 
the night that they might attend the evening 
and early morning meetings, which were impor- 
tant. It was the first gathering of the kind 
David had ever attended and it was a treat in- 
deed to him. Joseph would have liked to go too, 
but they could not both be away and he declared 
that it was more important for David to attend, 
as it had to do with Sunday-school work, and 
David, having just taken a class, was eager to 
learn all he could about it. Ruth rejoiced in 
the thought that her brother had gone to a Sun- 
day-school convention in company with the 
minister. Her brothers were a great source of 
happiness to her in these days. 

The second day of the meetings was drawing 
to a close. The afternoon session was over and 
the minister was preparing to take the train 
home that he might be in time for a special 
meeting, while David was to stay for the even- 
ing closing session to hear an especially fine 


IN THE WAY 


318 

Speaker whom Robert Clifton was anxious that 
he should not miss. They were walking slowly 
up the steps to the hotel when one of the mes- 
senger boys of the house stepped up to the min- 
ister and asked, “ Ain’t you Mr. Robert Clifton ? 
Well, here’s a telegram been waitin’ fer you an 
hour. I went down to the church, but couldn’t 
find no trace of you.” 

The minister tore the yellow envelope open 
hastily, a shade of anxious anticipation on his 
face, and as he read, the expression changed to 
one of annoyance and perplexity. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what I’m to do,” he 
said, looking up at David in a troubled way. 
“ My mother has telegraphed me to take the 
midnight train for New York and bring my 
sister home. I cannot possibly go unless it is 
a question of life and death. She does not say 
lyouise is ill, merely that she wants to come 
home. I can’t leave that temperance meeting 
at home this evening, after being so prominent 
in getting it up and after promising to speak. 
And there is Judge Tanner’s funeral to-morrow 
morning, which will last all day, as they are to 
bury away over at East Ivy Hill. And it is get- 
ting toward Sunday. I could not possibly go 
until Monday. I don’t understand mother’s 
sending me this special word just now. She 
must have forgotten the funeral.” 


IN THK WAY 


319 

In his heart the minister knew that to his 
mother the funeral would make no difference. 
She deemed that his duty toward her and his sis- 
ter was far above any duty he had to the church 
or to any outsider, dead or alive. He had tried 
many times to explain such things to her, but 
she had cried and told him that his father had 
not so looked upon duty, and that he would be 
ashamed of his son if he could know how utterly 
bereft of a care-taker she and her daughter were. 
But he did not so far forget himself as to men- 
tion these things to David Benedict. 

David had listened courteously and when the 
trouble was made known he instantly said : 

“ Could not I be of assistance to you ? I will 
gladly go to New York if you will trust me with 
the care of your sister. I could not well take 
the meeting and the funeral or I would be as 
willing to do that.” 

The cloud lifted from Robert Clifton’s face at 
once. 

“ The very thing,” he said in a relieved tone. 
“ Wouldn’t you mind a bit ? I’d gladly pay your 
fare twice over to get rid of the journey, and just 
now especially.” 

“ I should enjoy it immensely. You needn’t 
think of paying my fare. I have thought for 
some time of taking a trip to New York and 
there is no reason why I cannot as well take it 


320 


IN THE WAY 


now as at any time, if yon will tell my sister 
what has become of me and ask Joseph to attend 
to one or two matters for me. Do you think 
your sister will object ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” answered the minister de- 
cidedly. “ Why should she ? I know of no 
one with whom I would sooner trust her.” 

Robert Clifton had but a few minutes in which 
to make his train, so they had not much time to 
talk. He wrote a hasty telegram to his sister, 
“ Be ready to start home to-morrow,” signing his 
own name, and giving careful directions to 
David how to find the house where his sister was 
visiting, he hastened away to his sermons and 
his meeting and funeral, feeling relieved beyond 
measure that he need not stop all his work just 
at this his busy season, to take the long trip to 
New York. 

David Benedict, the evening meetings of the 
convention over, sat him down in the railroad 
station to await the train to New York. He 
was exultantly happy. He had not yet stopped 
to examine himself to see why he was so deeply 
glad. There was time enough for that. To 
his sister Ruth he had sent a single message, 
“ Please pray that I may be led of the Tord,” 
and Ruth, as she read it a few hours later, 
smiled to herself, and was glad that her brother 
was so changed as to make this a natural mes- 


IN THE WAY 


321 


sage for him to send her, and yet it sonnded 
very like the David he had been during the past 
few weeks. Then she read it again, and remem- 
bered ^ the first night he had ever asked her to 
pray for some one, and thought a moment and 
said aloud, “I wonder if it can be she.” 

David was interested in all that went on about 
him. He watched an elegant young man who 
came in with immaculate overcoat, umbrella, 
and dress-suit case. He observed the accus- 
tomed air with which he bought his ticket, and 
the matter-of-fact way in which he asked a few 
pertinent questions concerning his train. There 
was something about the young man that David 
liked. He looked down at himself and was dis- 
satisfied for the first time with his own Summer- 
ton ready-made clothes. Not that they were not 
fine and good, but there was a finish about the 
city young man that pleased David. He felt 
that he would move with more ease if he were 
dressed in that way. He began to reflect that it 
might be a good plan for him to look after a 
few minor details of dress himself if he was to 
escort a young woman on a journey. She must 
not be made to be ashamed of him. He won- 
dered if there were little things about traveling 
which he ought to know in order to make the 
journey a pleasant one for her. He would watch 
this young man and see. And presently, as if 


322 


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to help him, there entered a young woman with 
an elderly gentleman, who seemed to be the sis- 
ter of the young man and who was apparently 
going in company with him. David made up 
his mind that he would let nothing escape him, 
and see if he could profit by their conduct for 
the homeward trip. Accordingly, when the 
train was called he followed them out and at- 
tempted to enter the same car, but a uniformed 
porter forbade him saying, “ Sleeper ticket, sir. 
This is the sleeper for New York.” Ah ! David 
had forgotten that. He was willing enough to 
sit up all night if need be, for the journey was 
a pleasant novelty to him ; but if he would keep 
near these two he must do as they did, so he 
hastened back to the station and managed to se- 
cure the last berth left. Luckily it proved to be 
in the same car with the two, and he watched the 
numerous little attentions of this young man for 
his sister with increasing interest, noting care- 
fully the orders to the porter and the mysteries 
of electric bells. He would know all he needed 
to know without having the humiliation of ask- 
ing the young woman he was to escort. 

David did not sleep that night. It was too 
novel a position for him to care to sleep much, 
but he rested and thought. Alone in the dark- 
ness of his berth there came to him a realization 
of the wondrous care of God. He thought of 


IN THE WAY 


323 


the train and how it was plunging along in dark- 
ness, and how he lay there as quietly and safely 
as in his own home. God was caring for him. 
He rejoiced that he knew the wonderful God. 
He was a Christian who really and truly “ re- 
joiced in the Lord.” Hife seemed to be opening 
before him so rich and full. 

Then he began to examine himself. What 
was this other feeling, a sort of elation, which 
seemed to belong especially to this journey ? It 
was something very sweet and beautiful. He 
had not stopped before to ask himself what it 
was. Was it ? — yes, it surely was because of 
the fact that he was going after Louise Clifton, 
and that it was to be his precious task to bring 
her safely home, and that now she was to remain 
at home and would be among them again. Was 
that a wrong feeling for him to have ? No, he 
could not feel that it was. She was one of God’s 
creations. Had he not been praying for her 
with his whole soul for weeks and months ? He 
could not tell why he had felt the burden of her 
salvation so strongly upon him, but it had been 
there, and he had fully obeyed all commands it 
had laid upon him, and fairly poured out his 
soul before the throne for her. It had been 
given him to realize her danger and her need so 
fully that night of their Thanksgiving ride, 
that he had felt God must and would answer 


324 


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and show her the light. He had not doubted 
but that the answer would come. She was so 
sweet and bright and beautiful. His own feel- 
ing about her he had never questioned. His 
anxiety had been for her, and so he had prayed. 
Now it suddenly came to him, “ I love her,” and 
he rejoiced in that love as he would rejoice in 
any other great gift. He felt at the first that 
his love did not necessarily include the return of 
it by her, neither did it include his possession of 
even her friendship ; but he and she were in the 
world and he could love her, and he was glad 
that he could. It was a new joy he had not 
thought of before with relation to himself, and 
it was all the more pure and holy in that it was 
as yet utterly unconnected with any thought of 
the future or of possession. He guarded this 
newly discovered treasure in his heart as sacred. 
He would not even think about it too much lest 
it should be tarnished by constant handling. A 
beautiful hope began to come to him. Perhaps, 
oh, perhaps, the Master would accept his humble 
service and let him be the messenger through 
whom the message of life and salvation should 
be brought to her soul. And all that night long 
David Benedict, the new-made follower of the 
blessed Jesus, lay in his berth and prayed, and 
in the morning he arose peaceful and refreshed 
notwithstanding his vigil. 


IN THE WAY 


325 


Meantime the minister had been passing 
through less calm seas. His train was late for 
one thing. A freight wreck ahead of them had 
kept them almost an hour on a side track. 
When they finally reached Summerton he had 
but forty-five minutes in which to go home, eat 
some supper, dress, and prepare to present him- 
self at the town hall temperance mass-meeting. 

His trouble began as he took his latchkey 
from the parsonage door. His mother appeared 
on the upper stair-landing in as much consterna- 
tion as her small body could express. 

“ Robert ! My dear boy ! What has hap- 
pened ? Didn’t you get my telegram ? Where 
is your sister ? ” 

The minister was tired and worried. He had 
been trying all the way up from the station to 
remember whether he had left his notes for that 
evening’s address on his study table. If he had 
he feared much for their present existence, for 
one of the things which he could not persuade 
his over-scrupulous mother to do was to let his 
desk, with its multitudinous papers, alone. She 
would clear it off every time he went out, ex- 
plaining carefully, “No one has touched it, 
Robert, but myself, and of course I would not 
throw away anything of value,” and she could 
not be made to understand that the scraps of 
scribbled paper were sometimes of more value 


IN THE WAY 


326 

than all else the minister had on his table. He 
was too loyal and courteous a son to scold after 
such occurrences, and merely made his request 
that it should not be touched again, but always 
with the same result. He was growing now so 
that he carefully put under lock and key all 
papers before he went out ; but he had a strong 
suspicion that he had not gone back to the study 
to do so before he left for the convention, on ac- 
count of a sudden call to the parlor to see a man 
just before train time. It was this worry which 
perhaps made his tone seem a little annoyed and 
sharp to his mother. He had forgotten com- 
pletely about Louise and the telegram until 
his mother brought it to his mind, and now 
for the first time it dawned upon his inner 
consciousness that in all probability she would 
not think he had done the best he might have 
done in sending David Benedict in his place. 

“Yes, I received your telegram, mother ; but 
you surely knew I could not go to New York 
this week. You were well aware that I had 
to speak at a meeting in the town hall this 
evening, and that I had a funeral to-morrow 
morning which would keep me all day, and that 
Sunday is almost here with its two sermons 
which are scarcely touched as yet.” 

There were times when Mrs. Clifton could 
grow exceedingly indignant, and at such times 


IN THE WAY 


327 


she waxed quite eloquent. This was such an 
occasion. She had worked herself into a fretful 
state over Louise’s letter lest the girl were sick, 
which might perhaps excuse her seeming unrea- 
sonableness. 

“Robert, you cannot mean that you ignored 
it ! You do not intend to tell me that you 
count any duty in the world above that you hold 
to your mother and sister ? I should not have 
telegraphed you if there had not been a sufficient 
reason. There is something the matter with 
Louise, and she needs to come home to her 
mother at once. Certainly, I remembered the 
temperance meeting to-night, but I also remem- 
bered that it was only a temperance meeting. 
There won’t be half a dozen people out, and 
Deacon Chatterton can talk well enough for 
them. As for the funeral, the minister of the 
other church could go. The living are of more 
account than the dead, always. And your ser- 
mons don’t need to be fussed over so long. You 
can get up and talk well enough for these people 
for once. You always put a great deal more 
work on your sermons than they appreciate, 
anyway. I insist, I command, as your mother, 
Robert, that you leave to-night to bring your 
sister home.” 

Mrs. Clifton’s cheeks were red and her eyes 
were bright. There were signs of recent tears 


328 


IN THE WAY 


on her face which her son did not see. She had 
been worrying about her daughter and crying for 
her departed husband all day long. 

“ Mother, you forget yourself. I shall have 
to remind you that you do not know all about 
my duties or you would not speak so. It would be 
utterly impossible for me to go to-night unless it 
were a matter of life and death. But you need 
not get so excited. I have sent for Louise. 
What does she say is the reason for her sudden 
desire to come home ? ” 

Mrs. Clifton ignored the question. 

“ Sent for her ! ” she fairly screamed. “ Do 
you expect Louise to travel alone ? Oh, if your 
father could see you now and know ! ” and she 
ended with a groan. 

Her son put his hand upon her shoulder and 
tried to quiet her. 

“ No, mother dear ; listen. I have sent a 
suitable escort for her. Do not worry like this. 
Please order some supper, for I have but a few 
moments before I must be at the hall.” 

Mrs. Clifton straightened up. 

“ Whom have you sent for your sister ? I wish 
to know at once.” 

“ Mother, I have sent a suitable, safe person.” 

“ Tell me at once who the person is. When 
you get so far as to turn your family duties over 
to the hands of strangers I wish to be consulted.” 


IN THE WAY 


329 


“ Mother, I have sent a person whom I would 
trust with the most precious possession I have in 
the world. I have sent David Benedict. He 
offered to go when he saw my perplexity.” The 
minister stopped. Somehow he felt as he had 
when he had done a naughty thing as a little 
boy and stood before his mother to account for 
his conduct. This sending of a young man for 
his sister seemed suddenly to appear before him 
as a heinous offense. 

Mrs. Clifton’s consternation silenced her for a 
moment. “ David Benedict, indeed ! Well, thank 
fortune, she is well enough trained to refuse to 
come with him ! The impertinence of his sug- 
gesting such a thing ! Well, it appears that I 
shall have to go after my child myself.” Where- 
upon she swept into her room and closed the 
door to dissolve in tears of bewilderment and 
grief, while her puzzled, worried son recovered 
from his shock and rummaged wildly through 
his papers for some suitable notes — his intended 
address being gone beyond recovery — and finally 
rushed supperless and addressless to the meeting 
to search his mind in vain for any trace of what 
he had so carefully prepared. He wondered 
vaguely in the meantime why it had been so 
dreadful to send a good Christian young man to 
escort his sister home. There was just one little 
ray of comfort in the whole troubled evening, and 


330 


IN THE WAY 


that was that he had promised to let Ruth Bene- 
dict know what had become of her brother, and 
he knew that her smile or some word of hers 
would pour oil into his wounds and make him 
glad. He had known this certainly for some 
time now, and it gave him deep joy. But he 
felt very uncertain whether she even quite ap- 
proved of him yet. He dared not hope it. Once 
he found a little scrap of a poem which seemed 
as if it were written to give him help. He cut 
it out and pasted it in the fly leaf of his mem- 
oranda book : 

God’ s plans for thee are graciously unfolding, 

And leaf by leaf they blossom perfectly, 

As yon fair rose, from its soft enfolding. 

In marvelous beauty opens fragrantly. 

Oh, wait in patience for thy dear Lord’s coming. 

For sure deliverance he’ll bring to thee ; 

Then, how thou shalt rejoice at the fair dawning 
Of that sweet morn which ends thy long captivity. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


I T was rather early in the morning for New 
York high life when David Benedict pre- 
sented himself at the house where Eouise Clif- 
ton was staying and asked to see her at once. 
He had done a good deal of sightseeing. He 
had purchased a dress-suit case like the one he 
had seen on the way, for it had struck him as a 
very useful article. He had stowed it with 
various gifts for Ruth and Joseph and a few ar- 
ticles for himself, which it had occurred to him 
would be good things to have, and which he had 
not hitherto considered necessaries. The young 
man on the train had made a difference in David 
Benedict’s ideas of cultured life and refinement. 
He had left his old overcoat at a coffee and mis- 
sion house, where he had stepped in for a few 
minutes to join in the singing and rejoice in the 
number of reformed men who were testifying to 
the power of Jesus to save, and he had bought a 
new one, the counterpart as nearly as he could 
find it, of the one his admiration of the night 
before had worn. The new overcoat had neces- 
sitated a new hat also, and he had added gloves. 
Altogether, had he but known it, he looked a 


332 


IN THE WAY 


great deal better than the young man he had so 
admired, for David was a handsome man, with 
a rugged, unconscious, homely beauty that had 
much sterling character behind it. 

Louise, and Fannie Gleason were attired in 
becoming wrappers, sipping chocolate and eat- 
ing delicately toasted bread. Each had a book 
beside her, and they were having a delightfully 
late breakfast in their room, having just arisen, 
and not having anything particular in view for 
the morning’s occupation. Louise’s long golden 
hair was hanging down her back over her rich 
creamy cashmere wrapper. She liked occasion- 
ally to be lazy and pretend that she was a dam- 
sel of an Oriental court, who lolled and lived in 
defiance of the stern laws of work-a-day life. 
Besides, she meant to try a new way of arrang- 
ing her hair soon, and she wished to take plenty 
of time to it. 

The servant brought her a telegram which 
proved to be from her brother. Louise tossed it 
on the table, and felt a little disappointed now 
that she knew she was actually to return to the 
stupid little town. She had not thought her 
mother would be so summary. She had hoped 
she would come on and make a visit or go some- 
where else with her. Besides, there was a de- 
lightful invitation for next week, which had ar- 
rived just after she mailed her last letter to her 


IN THE WAY 


333 


mother. She did not want to go home nearly 
so much as she had done two days before. She 
told Fannie about it, and they talked it over and 
decided to keep Robert over the next week if 
possible. Fannie was only too eager for an in- 
teresting young man to add to their pleasant 
circle. He needed a change and rest. All young 
ministers were worked to death ; that was a mat- 
ter of course. Louise was not so certain that 
she could keep him ; but she decided she would 
at least let him return alone if he would not 
wait a few days, and then, while they were talk- 
ing, the servant came again announcing a young 
man who did not give his name, but had said, 

“ Please tell Miss Clifton I have come for 
her.” 

“It’s Robert, of course,” said Louise, getting 
up annoyed, “and he will be in a hurry, of 
course, and here I am in this rig. I can’t go in 
this way, and my hair all down too. He’ll just 
have to wait till I’m dressed. I shall not have an 
easy task, Fannie, I assure you, for Rob is awfully 
set in his way and as devoted to his seven-by- 
nine church as a mother to her child. I wish I 
was ready, for by the time I get down he will 
be so worked up over having to wait that I 
sha’n’t have nearly so easy a task.” 

“ What do you wait to dress for ? Go along, 
now, and I’ll fix it all up. Maggie, tell the 


334 


IN THE WAY 


gentleman to go to the morning sitting room 
and his sister will come at once. There, go 
along. There isn’t a soul about now. Mamma 
went to her executive meeting half an hour ago, 
and nobody will see you but the servants. You 
look as sweet as a picture. My ! I only wish I 
had such hair.” 

The morning sitting room was on the second 
floor, and was furnished all in soft, dull yellows 
and browns with luxurious couches and deep 
easy-chairs and pillows. David was ushered into 
it, and not many minutes later he heard a soft 
step on carpeted stairs, and Louise stood in the 
doorway, coming to meet him with a smile 
of welcome on her face intended for her brother. 
She paused in the center of the room, taken 
aback by the presence of a stranger. She 
stood just where a patch of morning sunshine 
caught her hair and made a glory of it, and the 
soft tones of golden brown and yellow in the 
draperies of a door and couch behind her made 
a fitting background for the creamy folds of her 
morning gown, which was all soft and white, 
with a touch of lace, filmy and rich, at throat 
and wrists, and a clasp of gold filigree at her 
waist. Louise dearly loved the artistic in her 
toilets, and it was perhaps for this reason that 
she had fallen so quickly in love with Ruth, for 
she felt they had an artistic bond in common. 


IN THE WAY 


335 


David had risen when he heard her step, and 
now he stood spellbound gazing upon her. He 
had never seen any one so lovely. She looked 
like some bright celestial spirit as she stood 
there with her halo of golden hair. He could 
not speak, he could only gaze, and his earnest, 
truth-telling face must have almost frightened 
the girl with its intensity of admiration if she 
had not been bewildered by his unexpected ap- 
pearance. She stood dazed a moment, fully 
realizing her position and her costume, and un- 
able to collect her faculties sufficiently to know 
what to do. But the quietness and deep rever- 
ence of David’s gaze suddenly brought her to 
herself, and she turned and fled. Had he been 
almost any other young man of her acquaintance, 
Donise would have blushed and laughed, and 
though she would have been embarrassed, she 
would have quickly twisted up the flowing hair 
which gave her so much trouble and sat down 
with a comical explanation ; but being David, 
she fled. She did not know why she felt so 
about this young man, but she did. She flew 
up the stairs to her room, only pausing to give a 
passing servant a stiff message for the waiting 
gentleman in the morning room that she would 
be down by and by, and then locking her door 
she made a more leisurely and careful toilet than 
even she was accustomed to do. The young 


336 


IN THE WAY 


man might wait now as long as he chose. 
When next he saw her she would be as digni- 
fied and distant as it was possible for apparel to 
make her. She even meditated putting on a 
hat, but decided that that would be absurd. Her 
cheeks grew redder and redder as she progressed 
with her toilet. She was beginning to grow in- 
dignant with David for having gotten her into 
such a ridiculous plight. She would not be 
reasonable and see that it was all her own fault. 
She was thankful that Fannie had gone into her 
mother’s room and was not there to witness her 
excitement. 

And David, his vision vanished, stood staring 
at the spot where she had stood, almost blinded 
with the sight. When the servant entered the 
room with the message, he bowed quietly and 
sat down ; but when he was alone he looked 
again at the place where she had stood, and said 
in a reverent tone and with an almost holy light 
upon his face, “I love her,” and then putting up 
his hand as if to cover his eyes, he added in an 
audible voice, as if he were registering a vow, 
“ But it shall not make any difference.” 

Then he sat back and leaned his head against 
the soft upholstery and looked like a man who 
had been privileged above many. There was a 
rapt look upon his face. You would have be- 
lieved it if you had been told that he was pray- 


IN THE WAY 


337 


[ ing. And the time did not seem long to him 
! before Louise returned. He understood it all. 
He did not need her dignified explanation and 
apology. He greeted her with a gentle, deferen- 
tial tone, and he forestalled all she had to say by 
apologizing for causing her any trouble. Then 
he told her simply that he had come for her, and 
asked when she could be ready. 

“ But where is my brother ? ” asked the aston- 
ished young woman. “ He was to come for me.” 

“ He could not come. Miss Clifton ; there was 
a meeting and a funeral, and he feared you 
would not like to wait until next week, so he 
sent me. I am sorry you are not to have a more 
desirable companion, but I will do my best.” 

“ Well, I’m sorry if you have been to any 
trouble,” began Louise, determining at once not 
to go home in David Benedict’s company under 
the present circumstances. “ But I had decided 
not to return until next week or the week after. 
I shall write my mother so at once. I hope you 
did not make a special trip on my account. I 
supposed you were here on business. My brother 
will doubtless be able to come for me soon, or — 
I could go alone. It is not a difficult journey.” 
Louise realized that she was being almost rude 
by the way she was talking to her visitor, but 
she stumbled ahead blindly, making it worse 
with every sentence. 

w 


338 


IN THE WAY 


With just a shadow on his quiet face and a 
note of something different in his voice, did 
David express the sudden pain she gave him by 
her words, as he said, “ Have you then not for- 
given me yet?” Then his tone changed to the 
old masterful one, and Douise was at once 
reminded of her compulsory sleigh-ride on 
Thanksgiving night. “ Miss Clifton, I have no 
right, of course, to insist ; but I have been 
charged to bring you home, and I wish you 
would come. Indeed, I think it would be better. 
Your mother is expecting you and I should not 
like to return without you.” 

In spite of herself Douise had to give in, for 
she was ashamed of herself. She talked haughtily 
a few moments more, but she knew in her heart 
from that first masterful sentence he had spoken 
that she would consent to go. 

Fannie, in her room again, was growing impa- 
tient to know the result of the conference. She 
had made a hasty toilet after Fouise left and sat 
waiting for her return. 

“ You don’t mean to say you’re really going, 
and going to-day ! Why, Fou ! You can’t pos- 
sibly get ready ; the train leaves in two hours. 
And who is he? Is he a special friend of the 
family? Maggie says he’s awfully handsome. 
Is he fond of you? My, I envy you! You’ll 
have a grand time on the way — a whole young 


IN ITHE WAY 


339 


man to yourself for so many hours ! I predict 
all sorts of interesting episodes. He must be 
awfully nice or your mother would never let you 
go alone with him. She is so particular about 
chaperons and such things. Do take me down, 
Dou, and introduce me, quick. I won’t be left 
out altogether.” 

So Fannie rattled on, while Louise opened 
bureau drawers and without seeming to care or 
know what she did, unceremoniously dumped 
their contents into her trunk. Having made up 
her mind to go, Louise seemed to be in a fever 
of impatience to get ready lest they might miss 
the train. And all the time she kept wondering 
to herself why it was she did as David told her. 

Fannie was taken down and introduced, and 
came back to help her friend with the last little 
preparations, going into raptures over David. 

“ Why Lou, he’s just magnificent ! I think 
you are the slyest girl I ever saw ; you never 
once mentioned his name all the time you were 
here. Oh, I know there’s a good deal more to 
this than you will admit. Wasn’t he at home 
when you left? I can’t think what made you 
come away. Had you been quarreling? I just 
believe you had ; and I’ll tell you, Louie dear, it 
doesn’t do to quarrel with men that have such 
firm chins, for they always get the better of one. 
Tell me the truth, Lou, did you get clear into the 


340 


IN THE WAY 


room so that he saw you with your hair down be- 
fore you discovered it wasn’t your brother ? Oh, 
I just know you did by your face ; and I would 
have given anything to have seen his face when 
he first looked at you. You were a perfect angel 
in that white and gold gown.” 

Louise was very much annoyed by this talk. 
It seemed as if all sorts of sacred things were 
being tumbled about and torn open by Fannie’s 
curious tongue. She got away from her at last, 
though she had to spend a very tiresome hour 
with her while David went away for his lunch 
and to order a carriage. He had watched that 
morning as the young man of the sleeper ordered 
a carriage and put his sister in and then sat down 
beside her. David made up his mind that he 
would do likewise with the lady of his care. 

Fannie went with them to the station and 
chattered with David all the wa)^, and he was 
grave and pleasant and respectful. He was 
wondering what Louise found in her to like. 
But she was Louise’s friend and he treated her 
accordingly. 

It was a relief when at last the train moved 
out from the station. David had secured two 
chairs in the parlor car. As there was no sleeper 
on the day train he discovered that the chair car 
took its place. He seated Louise and waited upon 
her in all the ways he had seen that other young 


IN THE WAY 


341 


man use, and then he set himself for an hour to 
be as agreeable as it was in him to be. He had 
read much and could talk well. He was not all 
gravity, as Houise discovered. He could make 
witty remarks and tell bright stories ; and while 
he knew nothing at all about the “ small talk ” 
which was common parlance with most of her 
young men acquaintances, he succeeded in mak- 
ing her forget herself and her unusual position. 
Then he bought one or two of the latest and best 
magazines, and with a delicacy born of innate 
refinement decided that he would not bore her 
with too much of his company, so murmuring 
some excuse of hunting up the porter and giving 
orders for supper at the best point he went away. 
He really seated himself in the common car for 
an hour and closed his eyes and prayed. 

When he returned to the parlor car he found 
that the young lady had finished looking at the 
papers and was gazing out of the window looking 
tired and somewhat cross. She looked up as he 
sat down beside her, and asked : 

“ Mr. Benedict, do you smoke ? ’’ 

She asked the question as if she wanted to 
find out for a definite purpose, not as if she ob- 
jected to it particularly. David looked at her in 
astonishment, and then a sudden light broke over 
his face and he smiled. 

“ No, I do not smoke. You thought that was 


342 


IN THE WAY 


why I went away for so long ? It was not. I 
wanted to give you a rest from my company. 
Do you like smoking ? ” 

“You need not do that again, Mr. Benedict ; I 
would rather have you stay here. I am ashamed 
for the way in which I treated you about coming 

home to-day. I was — well, I ” lyouise found 

she could not quite explain what had been the 
matter without saying more than she cared to, 
so she stopped in confusion. 

“ I understand,” said David ; “ never mind 
that ; and thank you for saying you would 
rather I would stay.” 

He was looking at her so earnestly now that 
it confused her, and struggling to find a topic 
for conversation she seized his last unanswered 
question. 

“ No, Mr. Benedict, I don’t really like smok- 
ing ; but I don’t know any reason why I should 
object. Nearly all my friends do smoke, except 
my brother ; but — I was a little surprised that 
you should, you seem so — so — well, so differ- 
ent ” 

“ Thank you. I’m glad I don’t seem like a 
smoker ; but I must be honest and tell you I used 
to smoke until I found my sister, and she made 
me see how disagreeable a thing it is. I’m sorry 
I ever smoked. I never will again. But, Miss 
Clifton, I want to presume very much on what 


IN THE WAY 


343 


you said a moment ago. You said you would 
rather I would stay here, and I am going to ask 
you to be kind enough to let me tell you what I 
have wanted to say to you for a long time. It 
may seem unfair to you that I should take this, 
time, when you are so situated that you cannot 
get away from me if you would ; but I think 
you will bear with me. It is very important. I 
don’t think I can promise to stop, even if you 
ask me, till I have told you all I wish. Will 
you bear with me ? ” 

Louise looked up with frightened eyes. She 
had seen David’s grave, steady gaze at her during 
the few hours they had been together that day, 
and it had made her heart throb with wonder 
and a strange new kind of joy she did not under- 
stand, but she dreaded anything that he might 
say. It was so new she did not want to have it 
brought out and looked at till she had time to 
think and understand herself. Instinctively she 
knew that his look had been of something deeper 
than friendship. Was he going to speak of it 
now ? She could not utter a syllable, and her 
silence seemed to give him the permission he 
asked. Yes, it was a story of love he had to 
tell — of wonderful love — rbut not of his own. 
Louise, as she listened — and she could not but 
listen, because the words came from a heart which 
had communed much with God, and knew ex- 


344 


IN THE WAY 


actly what it was speaking about — felt that she 
was a little child being shown Jesus for the first 
time. So simply, so gently did David put the 
whole matter of being a Christian before her, 
that she felt as if it would be the most natural 
thing in the world to give herself entirely to 
Christ right away that minute, and not stop to 
think how it would affect this or that question. 
David had thought about this talk for weeks and 
even months. He had not even fixed it in his 
mind that he was to have the opportunity for it ; 
but still he felt that sometime the chance might 
come, and he kept asking himself just what 
would reach him if he were a young girl like 
this one. He had thought about it so much and 
prayed about it so much that when the Master 
gave the opportunity he was ready for the work, 
and the Spirit gave the words. He spoke, 
Louise afterward many a time thought, as if he 
were inspired for the time. If his words were 
written here, which they cannot be, because 
there is no record of them except in Louise’s 
heart, they might not be understood. It was 
partly the earnestness and fire with which he 
spoke, the high, exalted look on his face, the 
firm conviction of his listener that he knew and 
had proved what he said to be true, the great 
longing in his whole expression, his own great 
love for Jesus — that won her first to listen, then 


IN THE WAY 345 

to long, and then to love this Saviour whom he 
would fain bring to her knowledge. 

It was growing dark. The train rushed along 
through the blurr of indistinguishable objects. 
Their chairs were turned together toward the 
darkened window, and they did not notice that 
the porter coining through had lighted all the 
lamps. For a full hour David had leaned for- 
ward eagerly and talked in low impassioned 
tones, of reason, pleading, explanation. Louise 
had answered very little. Her face was turned 
away toward the window and her eyes were 
drooping to hide the tears which gathered fast. 
To her it was as if the Saviour in very presence 
stood there between them pleading for her soul, 
and she was longing to give her heart to him but 
could not do it, and the ache of resistance was 
very great. At last David seemed to have said 
all that he had to say. His purpose was almost 
accomplished. He placed his hand reverently 
on one of her little trembling, cold, gloved 
hands and said in tones that almost pierced her 
with the longing they expressed, 

“ Won’t you, oh, won’t you come to him now ? ” 
They sat for a full minute thus. David hardly 
dared breathe, and Louise could not speak or 
get control of her voice. An undiscerning ob- 
server on the other side of the car curiously 
wondered what kind of a quarrel that handsome 


IN THE WAY 


346 

bride and groom were having which kept them 
busy so long, and then retired behind his paper, 
concluding it was not worth while to watch, and 
never knew that a decision was being made 
which would affect two worlds. And then 
lyouise turned her head toward David with a 
quick motion, and looking him straight in his 
earnest, longing eyes, with her own brimming 
over with tears, answered him tremblingly : 

“Yes, I will. Show me how, please.” 

The rest of that evening’s ride flew swiftly by 
for the two. The supper which the porter pres- 
ently served to them seemed nectar and ambrosia, 
and might have been chips for all they knew 
about it. Louise said little, but she felt much. 
It may be because she had so joyful a leader in 
her first steps in the new life that she felt so 
very happy. Her heart seemed lighter than the 
air. She felt that everything was new, and 
Jesus had been made to her a reality. That was 
the secret of it all. He loved her and she loved 
him. She looked up with a new reverence at the 
young man who had shown her the way, and 
whose face was shining with the joy of an angel 
and a man together. Henceforth he would to 
her stand out from and above all other men on 
the earth. He was more like Jesus Christ than 
any one she had ever seen, and Jesus Christ he 
had made to become her ideal. 


CHAPTER XXV 


I T was late that evening when Eouise Clifton 
finally arrived in Summerton. Her anxious 
brother had paced the platform for an hour try- 
ing to escape his mother’s reproaches. He was 
afraid that his sister would come and afraid that 
she would not come. He was not sure which 
would be the worse, for his mother was in a ter- 
rible state about the . impropriety of her travel- 
ing so far in company with a young man. How- 
ever, he was relieved to see her. As she kissed 
her brother, she wondered shyly if he would 
care for the decision she had made this evening, 
and she drew a sigh of almost dismay a few 
moments later when she realized that David, 
who had been such a strong tower of help to 
her, was to leave her now, and she would have 
to walk alone. No, not alone either, for Jesus 
would be with her ; but that thought was so 
new that she did not always remember it at 
first. 

She wondered what David would do, in her ’ 
place, a few minutes later when she saw her 
mother. Mrs. Clifton met her daughter with 
open arms and tears. 


347 


348 


IN THE WAY 


“You poor, dear child ! To think you had to 
come with that man ! It was dreadful ! I could 
not help it. I suppose you did not dare to stay 
there when Robert had sent him. I was so 
sorry for you.” 

“Why, mamma dear, what do you mean?” 
said Rouise, her happy face puzzled for a mo- 
ment. “ Mr. Benedict was very kind and good. 
I could not have had a more considerate travel- 
ing companion ; he did everything that a mor- 
tal could do to make it pleasant for me. And, 
mamma dear. I’ve something I want to tell you, 
something I think you will be glad about. I 
have given my heart to Christ, and I’m going to 
try to be a Christian. I haven’t been the kind 
of daughter I ought to have been in lots of 
ways, and I wanted to tell you the first thing, 
that I’m going to try to be different now.” 

But the mother looked at her with dismay. 
She did not understand such talk. 

“ My darling child ! ” she exclaimed ; “ don’t 
talk in that way, I beg of you. You have al- 
ways been a dear, good daughter, and as for 
being a Christian, of course you are. You have 
been well brought up and taught to believe. 
You have never known anything else. Come 
now, my dear, and get to your room. You are 
utterly tired out. You will not feel so melan- 
choly in the morning.” 


IN THE WAY 


349 


In vain did Louise urge that she was not in 
the least melancholy. She was very happy. 
The mother only looked the more frightened, 
and smiled and tried to get her to rest, and at 
last with a sinking heart she gave up the at- 
tempt and let her mother go. David had been 
so heartfelt in his joy over her salvation that 
she had unconsciously felt that her own loved 
ones would be also. It rather chilled her to 
have her mother take it in this way. Was the 
new life going to begin so hard at once ? 

The mother, poor bewildered soul, went to her 
long-suffering son for comfort. 

“ Robert,” she said in excited tones, when she 
had closed his study door, “ Louise is ill. She 
is not herself. She is talking religion, and you 
know how utterly foreign to her nature any- 
thing sad or melancholy is. I am afraid she is 
going to die or have a fit of sickness or some- 
thing. I have heard of people talking in this 
way before dying. I knew something terrible 
would come of all this — putting meetings be- 
fore your own family. Oh, if you or I had only 
gone for her instead of letting her be brought 
in this way ! ” 

“ What do you mean, mother ?” demanded the 
thoroughly aroused and much-berated young 
minister. His nerves were quivering with the 
strain of the past two days. But the mother 


350 


. IN mE WAY 


turned away, and he walked out of the study and 
went at once in alarm to his sister’s door. 

“Louie, may I come in ? ” he called anxiously. 
“ Mother says you are sick. What is it ? Tell 
me all about it. Didn’t David take good care 
of you ? ” 

She opened the door, laughing and crying all 
at once, and burying her face in his coat had a 
good cry, which was what she needed after the 
excitement of the day and the nerve tension she 
had been under for weeks. In a minute, when 
she could get control of herself, she told him 
shyly and sweetly how David had helped her, 
and how she had given herself to Jesus. “ And 
mother doesn’t understand me,” she added wist- 
fully. 

“ But I do,” said her brother, a ring in his 
voice she had never heard him use for her be- 
fore. And he stooped and kissed her in such a 
way that she felt comforted. 

Coming back to his mother in the study later 
the minister said in joyful voice : “ Mother, you 
are mistaken about Louie. She is not going to 
die ; she has only just begun to live.” 

During these days Ellen Amelia Haskins had 
been steadily improving in mind and spirit. 
She was much under Ruth’s influence, which 
could not be other than a blessing to her. Some 
things were happening too which helped to 


IN THE WAY 


351 


change the current of her life and give her a 
purpose. The minister’s wife in West Winter- 
ton had a sister, a missionary, and it chanced 
this winter that she came home on a visit and 
spent a week with her sister. The minister 
availed himself of this opportunity to hold a 
missionary meeting, and as it came on a week 
night when Ellen was in West Winterton, and 
was held in the academy hall, she attended the 
meeting. Then a new influence reached her. 
She listened spellbound to the woman’s story of 
the trials, the joys, the triumphs, of the mission- 
ary’s life, and her soul was filled with longing to 
go. She recognized that here was something 
great in life that she could do which would 
please her Master, and she formed a settled pur- 
pose in her heart that she would do all she could 
toward getting ready, and then if the Lord 
willed it she would go. “ I’ll just get as far ready 
as I can,” she said to herself, “and then he can 
do as he pleases about sending me.” She said 
it with a humble, willing spirit and she set her 
energies to learn all she could in every way she 
could. Her mother began to be proud of her 
and to take heart of hope and predict a marriage 
with a thrifty farmer, and ask her if she didn’t 
intend to try to secure a school to teach in a 
good district for the next winter, but Ellen said 
she didn’t know and worked steadily on. 


352 


IN THE WAY 


And then something wonderful happened to 
her. The I^ord was opening her way step by 
step. It was almost time for the summer vaca- 
tion when the word came that Uncle Timothy 
had died very suddenly, and that he had left to 
Ellen Amelia the sum of three thousand dollars 
to do with as she pleased. 

“ If I was you I’d just quit school at once,” 
said her mother, a pleased, proud look on her 
face ; “ you’ll not have any need for any more 
schoolin’ now ; you won’t have to teach, and 
anybody’ll be glad to get you, now you’re w’ell 
off. It makes a difference, in spite of all they 
say, and you can be more independent when you 
marry, if you have money of your own (Mrs. 
Haskins had been possessed of eight hundred 
dollars when she married the deacon, which she 
had willingly and humbly put into his business 
to help him along, but she often used the re- 
membrance of her dowry as a rod with which 
to rule her husband). I wouldn’t stay on at the 
’cademy another day ’f I was yon. Yon don’t 
need to care whether you pass or not now.” 

But Ellen Amelia closed her lips which were 
becoming refined with gentleness and following 
her Saviour and went to pray about the matter. 
Having laid the subject before her all-wise 
Header she went quietly to her father and put 
her plan before him. 


IN THE WAY 


353 


The deacon sat on the back porch whittling 
and waiting for his dinner. He put down his 
knife and the front legs of his chair and listened 
carefully to his daughter’s story, a film of mist 
gathering over his eyes as she talked. He an- 
swered her slowly at last and with a choke in 
his voice. 

“ Wal, Ellen, you couldn’t do anythin’ that 
would be a greater honor to yer ancestors ’n to 
be a missionary. I mus’ say I am pleased to 
have a child of mine willin’ to make such sacri- 
fizes. I mightily hate to lose my little girl, but 
if yer heart’s set on goin’ I sha’n’t say the word 
that’ll stop you. Go ahead to your college or 
whatever you like. The money’s yours an’ it 
might be worse spent. I’ll help you all I can,” 
and then he sat and chewed the end of his stick 
and remembered how Ellen Amelia had looked 
when she was two years old in a pink calico 
pinafore and her face all bread and molasses. 

But when Mother Haskins heard of the pro- 
posed plan, her first practical objection was : 
“Wal, I should like to know what you need of 
more schoolin’ ef you’re goin’ to bury yourself 
out in some outlandish place in the-land-knows- 
where, with little naked heathens. I guess, if 
you’ve got enough knowledge to teach here in 
this Christian land, you’ve got enough to teach 
sinners that don’t know their a-b-c’s.” 


354 


IN THE WAY 


Mother Haskins, it must be explained, was 
disappointed. Missionaries were well enough, 
she felt, for a cousin once or twice removed, but 
she had looked to see her daughter marry a rich 
farmer and settle down where she might super- 
intend the new home and manage Ellen Amelia’s 
children. However, she found that her talk was 
of no avail as she could not immediately produce 
the rich, thrifty farmer to help her out, and so 
she settled down to console herself with what 
glory reflected upon her for having brought up a 
daughter who was to go to college with the life 
of a missionary as a halo in the future. And she 
found it not empty of honor, but rather one upon 
which she reflected with increasing satisfaction. 

One afternoon in the sewing circle she re- 
marked with pardonable pride and a pin in her 
mouth : 

“Yes, it will be hard to give her up, but then 
it’s a great blessing to have one’s children turn 
to the ways of righteousness ; and they do say 
that ‘out there’ (which term applied to some 
far-away mission field and represented her 
daughter’s future home veiled in the mist of 
somewhere or nowhere to her mother) they don’t 
have sech hard times, with plenty of servants to 
do everythin’ for one and not a livin’ thing to 
do but preach the gospil. No, I don’t suppose 
she’ll have much trouble learnin’ the langwidge ; 


IN THE WAY 


355 


she’s so up on her lyatin an’ Greek that these 
uncivilized langwidges can’t be much mor’n 
a-b-c’s to her.” 

Mrs. Deacon Chatterton, on the other side of 
the room, felt that Deacon Haskins’ wife was 
getting too puffed up and needed her pride taken 
down, and so she remarked with one of her char- 
acteristic “ Humphs ! ” that she would “ just like 
to see Bllen’melia when she got real seasick on 
the ocean, and if she Wouldn’t be ready to cry 
for Summerton and her ma then she’d miss her 
guess ; ” and then she shut her lips firmly, feeling 
that she had done her duty, and experienced a 
pang of something like envy for the woman who 
had a daughter who was to go as a missionary ; 
for Mrs. Chatterton really loved the lyord and was 
zealous for his work, and enjoyed what glory re- 
flected upon her as being a member of a church 
whence should go out a messenger who should 
help to bring in the Kingdom. 

But Ellen Amelia went about her work from 
day to day with a growing expression of sweet- 
ness and content. • The way in which the Eord 
was leading her was so wonderful to her that 
she had been awed into perfect trust. 

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, 

Just to take him at his word, 

Just to rest upon his promise, 

” Just to know, “Thus saith the Lord.” 


IN THE WAY 


356 

She had heard those words sung in that mis- 
sionary meeting in West Winterton and had 
asked for the book that she might copy and learn 
them. There was another hymn that went over 
and over in her mind and she hummed it at her 
work in these days; It was this : 

I would not have the restless will 
That hurries to and fro, 

Seeking for some great thing to do, 

Or secret thing to know : 

I would be treated as a child, 

And guided where I go. 

I ask Thee for the daily strength. 

To none that ask denied, 

A mind to blend with outward life. 

While keeping at thy side ; 

Content to fill a little space. 

If thou be glorified. 

She was learning to make these words truly 
her own and as she sang them she sometimes 
thought of the time when Joseph Benedict had 
told her that if she would try to be faithful in 
the little things there might be a chance .some 
day that she would rule over many. She won- 
dered if he ever thought about her and her Chris- 
tian life and if he knew how she thanked him in 
her heart for the words he had spoken before he 
knew the Lord, and of the promise he had made 
her give. She resolved that if, in the future 
years, the Lord ever opened the way for her to 


IN THE WAY 


357 


go to a foreign land and teach others the way to 
Christ, she would, before she went, if there was 
any opportunity, tell him how much he had 
done for her, and thank him for it all, under 
God. She felt that it would be a fitting time 
when she was leaving her home perhaps forever. 

Then in the fall Ellen went away to college. 
Ruth had a hand in planning where she should 
go, and helped her with her outfit and sent 
messages to some of the teachers and pupils who 
were friends of her own, to be kind to this 
friend whom she loved, and finally took a short 
trip just to see her safely established and be sure 
that she would be happy and under the right 
influences. Then began a new life for Ellen 
Haskins, and for a time she drifted out of Sum- 
merton life entirely and began to be looked 
upon by the Sunday-school children as a wonder- 
ful being with an unworldly spirit, who was will- 
ing to give up everything that life held good to 
go and preach dry sermons to wicked people who 
were a great deal more interesting to them un- 
saved and uncultured. 

Joseph Benedict had gone away too, and for 
him the minister and David had prayed and re- 
joiced and labored much. Robert Clifton had 
made sure that he was in just the best college 
that could be found and himself made many 
arrangements which opened the way for Joseph’s 


358 


IN THE WAY 


broader, better life, and Joseph went with a heart 
full of high ambitions and holy thoughts to see 
what the world contained for him. And lo, and 
behold ! the first thing that he came across 
which fascinated him was the student’s volun- 
teer missionary movement, which he joined 
forthwith, and there were two from the Sum- 
merton church, albeit Summerton did not know 
it yet. 

Just at this time Summerton was occupied 
with the lovely ways of the minister’s sister and 
the marked attention which was openly paid her 
by David Benedict. Summerton of course could 
not keep still about that, it was not to be ex- 
pected ; but the strangest part of it all was that 
neither David nor Louise seemed to care to try 
to hide it, as a good many others would have 
done. 

Mrs. Clifton had not understood her daughter’s 
new character at all at first ; she was so sweet 
and willing to do what was asked of her, and 
seemed to have lost all her old dissatisfaction 
with life. Her mother worried and even cried 
about her, but gradually her worry changed to 
a new alarm and she made plans to take her 
daughter away at once. What was all this that 
was come upon her ? A young farmer, a com- 
mon, ordinary man with no polish and no man- 
ners to speak of, nothing in fact — and who 


IN THE WAY 


359 


knew how much or how little money behind it ? 
— was constantly with her cherished daughter 
and that daughter smiled upon him and watched 
and obeyed his least wish as if it were law, and 
seemed living in a maze of happiness. Mrs. 
Clifton became peremptory at once. She de- 
creed that Louise should never see him again, 
that he should not enter the house and ordered 
Robert to prohibit him the grounds. She. also 
told her daughter to prepare at once to leave 
with her for New York on a trip whose time 
limit should not be set at present. Louise in 
dismay went to her brother, and together they 
tried to dissuade their mother from her purpose, 
for David had already told the minister how his 
sister had become the love of his life. But it 
was all to no purpose. Louise tried to be sub- 
missive, but she could not keep the tears from 
coming, and she suddenly discovered to herself 
what a world of desolation it would be to her 
without David. 

And then, just as they thought there was 
nothing else the)^ could do to persuade their 
mother to remain quietly in Summerton during 
the winter with her son and daughter, there 
stepped in a new influence, and it was no other 
than David. Robert had thought of Ruth and 
had talked with his sister about asking her to 
try her persuasive powers on their mother, but 


IN THE WAY 


360 

neither would have thought of asking David. 
Indeed they would have considered his appear- 
ance as disastrous to their wishes beyond any- 
thing that could have been done. Louise called 
upon Ruth and mentioned that she was feeling 
sad that her mother wished her to go away and 
could not be persuaded to give it up, and that 
this was to be a farewell call for the winter per- 
haps instead of a pleasant hour of converse about 
their various plans of work. Wise Ruth guessed 
at some things which Louise did not tell, and, 
troubled over the sorrow this would bring her 
brother, went to her Heavenly Father with it, 
and then told David. 

Then David went out into the starlight and 
walked to the parsonage and ringing the bell 
asked to see Mrs. Clifton. She came down, and 
stranger than all the rest, she was gracious and 
was conquered. In truth, no one could see 
David without liking him — I had almost said 
loving him. Mrs. Clifton was struck by his un- 
usual appearance and character. He told her so 
frankly that he loved her daughter, and he asked 
her blessing on his suit so engagingly that she 
surprised even herself by giving it. Somehow it 
was given to David in a remarkable way to 
win hearts, and he won Mrs. Clifton’s at once. 
So courteously did he treat her, so tenderly did 
he calm her fears about certain little foibles of 


IN THE WAY 


361 


her own, that fifteen minutes later siie went back 
to her room and Louise, who was sorrowfully 
packing handkerchiefs by the open trunk, and 
with a smile on her face and a real motherly 
tear of mingled joy and sorrow said : “ Louie, 
dear, you may stop packing and go downstairs. 
Somebody wants to see you in the parlor ; and I 
guess you may as well tell Morton on the way 
to come and help me put these things away. I 
suppose I may as well give up this trip now, for 
I should have to take it alone if I went.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


HERE was to be a great missionary meet- 



^ ing in Summerton. It was a sort of mis- 
sionary conference. West Winterton, North 
Springville, and several surrounding towns were 
to attend in full force. There was an all-day con- 
ference and an evening mass-meeting. Robert 
Clifton had planned the whole thing, but per- 
haps the first suggestion came from Ruth Bene- 
dict. Of course Ruth and Louise and David 
had had a good deal to do with the getting of 
it all up. Summerton church was a bower of 
beauty. The pulpit was a mass of evergreen 
and glossy leaves and feathery white blossoms. 
Every window held a bank of green. There 
were festoons of lovely ground pine hung from 
the center of the ceiling and draped to every cor- 
ner and niche available. Nothing lovelier could 
have been imagined. Louise Clifton was an 
adept in decoration. Ruth had drilled and 
trained some little children in missionary exer- 
cises and recitations and singing. Summerton 
was to be astonished for once over what her chil- 
dren could do. But above all that there was to 
be a double surprise for the people. The two 


IN THE WAY 363 

young volunteer missionaries were to be present 
and to speak. 

It is wonderful what a change two years will 
make in two people. Ellen Haskins had not 
been at home since she left for college nearly 
two years before. It had happened that during 
her first college winter she had heard a great 
deal about a summer school where there was in- 
struction for Christian workers and especially 
for young missionaries. Her heart longed to go, 
and her father gave his permission since if she 
chose to use some of her money in this way he 
was well satisfied. Her mother pursed up her lips 
and thought her daughter might as well come 
home and help with the canning and get a little 
of the winter sewing out of the way ; but it was 
made easy for Ellen to go and everything seemed 
to point in that direction, and so she went. The 
summer had rushed by all too soon, and with her 
mind full of wonderful new thoughts and her 
note book and Bible filled with themes for future 
study this eager student went back to her college 
duties. But now they were to come home for 
an event which was to come off soon, and so 
Mother Haskins was to have her desire at last, 
and her pride would not be obliged to live en- 
tirely upon the first threadbare glory of her 
daughter’s stated intention for distinction. 

And they came. Not even Mrs. Haskins 


364 


IN THE WAY 


knew that Ellen was to speak. Ruth had 
written her and had persuaded her to put her 
eager earnestness into words for her home people 
to hear. Ruth had received from Ellen many 
long letters full of eager enthusiasm for mis- 
sions. She felt certain that Ellen could speak 
about this theme so dear to her heart, and 
Ellen, after prayer and consideration, had con- 
sented. 

But not even Ruth had counted on the 
changes that two years away from home and the 
contact with the college girls and books and all 
the world she had met since she had left them 
would make in her. She knew that Ellen’s 
letters had changed, that they were better ex- 
pressed and better written, and that there was in 
them an earnest tone which meant much for the 
future work of the girl. 

By some mistake or delay of trains Ellen did 
not arrive until an hour or two before the hour 
for the meeting. Indeed they began to fear that 
she would not reach them at all that night and 
their surprise would not come off after all. But 
she came just in time to make a hasty toilet and 
go to the church. There was, of course, no 
opportunity to see her or note any changes. 
Robert Clifton had been dubious about allowing 
her to speak at this important meeting before 
they had tested her in a smaller one, but Ruth 


IN THE WAY 


365 

had thought it a good thing and so he had 
yielded, for in truth he had come to feel that 
Ruth was generally right. However, she began 
to feel just the least bit nervous for the girl her- 
self, as the time drew near and she had had no 
opportunity to talk with her. She could only 
sit and pray for her while the music of the grand 
missionary hymn rolled down the aisles. There 
was a great crowd out that night. All Sum- 
merton knew that “ Joe Benedic’ ” was home 
from college and they wanted a good chance to 
watch him. They also knew that some stran- 
gers were to speak. The church people were 
out in full force. The “ Brower boys,” who still 
retained that name together with their former 
reputation, were there. They had not been to 
church much of late. They had interests in 
other directions, but the prospect of a lot of 
strangers from out of town was alluring. They 
lounged into the back seats and eyed the speakers 
as they came upon the platform. There were 
four or five men with the minister, a young 
woman with some music in her hand who was 
to sing, and another woman, tall and almost 
stately in her carriage and with an unmistakable 
“style” in her plain, perfectly-fitting, and be- 
coming gown. 

“ I say, she’s a stunner ! ” ejaculated Bill 
Brower, pursing up his lips in a disgusting 


366 


IN THE WAY 


pucker to squirt some tobacco juice in just the 
right spot under the dress of the lady who sat 
in front of him. “ I wonder who she is ! ” 

“ Well, I’ll be eaten alive if that ain’t Joe Bene- 
dic’,” said his brother in answer as he sat and 
stared in open-mouthed wonder. 

Joseph was greatly changed as well as Ellen. 
It was quite astonishing to hear him introduced 
as a “student volunteer,” to be told what that 
mystical title meant, and then to look at Joe 
Benedict, whom they had known since he was in 
long clothes and as a barefoot boy, and see him 
a handsome, graceful, well-dressed young man 
and hear him talk the smooth easy English of 
the minister. What was he saying? Deacon 
Meakins took out his red cotton handkerchief 
and blew his nose very loud after the first few 
sentences. Was this really his friend, Mr. Bene- 
dict’s bo)^, talking ? Why, he was so enthusiastic 
that the old deacon almost felt he would like to 
go to a foreign field himself. The hard lines 
around Mrs. Chatterton’s mouth relaxed and 
even Deacon Chatterton himself nodded his 
approval in a series of jerky, severe bobbings of 
his head. 

Joseph had early decided to study for the min- 
istry and had not been long in finding out that 
the foreign field was where his heart would fain 
carry him. He had been in many meetings ever 


IN THE WAY 


367 


since he first entered college and he had made a 
point to hear all the missionaries and good speakers 
on the subject that came in his way, so he had 
plenty of experience and knowledge to speak 
from. He told the audience some of those in- 
teresting facts concerning the amount of money 
spent for luxuries, necessities, drink, and tobacco 
in this country, and then showed them how little 
they gave to missions. He had a rod with 
lengths of colored ribbons representing these 
different facts. When he came to the black one 
— close beside the little white one indicating the 
money expended in missions — representing the 
amount of money spent for liquor in this country 
and flung the end far out into the audience. Bill 
and Ed Brower looked in amaze, and Bill said, 
“ I’ll be gormed.” Just exactly what that epithet 
meant nobody ever knew, but Bill always used 
it when he was particularly overcome and wished 
to be reverent. He hardly ever swore during 
his remarks in the church. This word was used 
to take its place when swearing was inappro- 
priate. 

When Joseph sat down Ruth wished with all 
her heart that his speech had been put last, as 
she felt sure it would make a good impression 
which would bear fruit if left in the minds of 
the hearers. She had assisted in preparing the 
programme for this meeting, and had urged that 


IN THE WAY 


368 

Ellen be put at the end, for something had told 
her that Ellen would be impressive and helpful 
as well. Now she began to fear that she had 
overestimated the girl and that she might fail 
and spoil the whole. She half wished that Ellen 
would, even at this late hour, whisper to the 
minister that she could not speak, Joseph had 
done so well. Ruth was proud indeed of her 
brother. 

Joseph sat down and bowed his head a mo- 
ment, as it was his custom, to ask the Master’s 
blessing when he had finished a message. The 
young woman with the music was singing now : 

Hark ! the voice of Jesus calling, 

Who will go and work to-day ? 

It was strange indeed that Joseph Benedict 
had not been told that Ellen Haskins was to 
address the meeting that night. No one had 
thought to mention the matter to him. He had 
been much with David during the few hours he 
had been at home, and David never dreamed it 
would be of any particular interest to him, nor 
would it except as it would arouse a kind curios- 
ity. As Joseph began to listen to the singing 
and raised his eyes to the singer, he became 
aware of an annoyingly loud whisper. It was 
just behind him, one of the West Winterton 
ministers and a stranger whispering together, 


IN THE WAY 


369 


and Joseph could not but hear what they were 
saying inasmuch as they were mentioning his 
name and did not seem to try to speak quietly. 

“You say the young woman who is to speak 
next is the wife of this Mr. Benedict who has 
just spoken? She is a remarkably fine-looking 
woman. If she can speak as well as she looks 
she will make a splendid helper for a man in a 
foreign field.” 

“ No,” said the West Winterton minister, who 
had a loud wheezy whisper, “ I only said they 
both came from Summerton and from this 
church. No, she is a single lady. She attended 
our academy some time since.” 

“Oh, indeed,” said the stranger, who was an 
elderly gentleman and seemed to know a good 
deal about missionary matters. “Well, it is a 
pity. They won’t succeed near so well. They’d 
better make up their minds to marry. It is a 
great deal better. I’m told the Board is advis- 
ing it in all cases. They can do more good.” 

And then the singing ceased and Joseph looked 
up, indignation in his heart, to see who was the 
young woman whose fate was being so summarily 
disposed of at the direction of a Board. 

Robert Clifton was introducing the tall young 
woman. Joseph had only noticed her casually 
as they had been coming in. He did not in the 
least know who she was. What did the minister 


370 


IN THE WAY 


mean ? He was saying she was one of their own 
number, and — Miss Haskins ! What Miss Has- 
kins? Not Ellen Amelia, surely! Why, she 
was — she did not look like that 1 And what a 
voice 1 So rich and full and strong, and not the 
least bit self-conscious. She was in earnest too. 
She meant every word she said. She was ready 
to throw every bit of her magnificent energy and 
talent into the work. Joseph sat up straight and 
listened, and wondered, and his heart throbbed 
over the stories she had to tell. Where had she 
found all this information? What she had to 
say was new and original. It almost seemed as 
if she must have been at work in Africa or China 
or some of the other places she talked about, so 
familiar was she with their needs. 

Joseph was not the only one who listened to 
Ellen’s words in wonder and surprise and joy. 
Her old father sat with the tears streaming down 
his cheeks, glad to his weak old heart’s core that 
his little Ellen had turned out so beautiful and 
grand, able to talk as well as the minister. Her 
mother sat beside him, her lips very stiffly shut, 
her eyes drooping with humility and pride as if 
she thought all Summerton was looking at her 
in admiration that she had brought up such a 
child. She would not let them think she was 
over-awed by it, and so she tipped her neck back 
uncomfortably and her head forward, and would 


IN THE WAY 


371 


not look up to watch her darling, though she 
confided to her husband, on the way home that 
she was “ jest all of a tremble, lest Bllen’melia 
should break down and forget her piece.” 

It is needless to say that Summerton was 
astonished and that the minister and his sister, 
and his sister’s future husband, and his sister 
and brother were delighted and charmed beyond 
measure, and greeted Ellen with overwhelming 
joy when the meeting at last was over and they 
had her to themselves. Joseph, it is true, was 
not very demonstrative. He had shaken hands 
cordially, and then stepped back to give the 
others a chance, and while he waited had 
watched. 

At home, in his palm-surrounded room he sat 
alone, later, upon his couch, and thought of the 
words of the stranger back of him on the plat- 
form. At last he said, as he began to prepare 
for rest, “ I shouldn’t wonder if that was good 
advice. I’ll follow it.” 

Knowing Joseph as you do, do you think it 
was strange that he should stand, the very next 
evening, at the Haskins door, seeking admission, 
and asking for the daughter ? 

Ellen came in, the same and yet a new Ellen. 
She greeted him kindly, not effusively. That 
was new for her. She used to gush. Ellen’s 
time to thank her first helper had not yet come. 


372 


IN THE WAY 


and until then she must bide behind a calm re- 
serve. This she well knew. 

Joseph told his errand at once. Perhaps his 
language was a little more blunt than that his 
brother had used some time before, on a similar 
occasion. He had come to ask her to join hands 
with him and go to the foreign field. And he 
had not learned any better in all his two years 
at college, and his many meetings, and his in- 
tensity, he did not know any better than to tell 
her a part of the conversation he had heard on 
the platform the night before. Ellen’s color 
came and went. Her heart throbbed painfully, 
but she kept her self-control. She had not borne 
this young man’s stunning blows of truth several 
times before in her life for nothing. Presently 
she gained control of her voice. 

“No, Mr. Benedict,” she said in a clear voice 
which seemed to herself to be speaking away off 
in the clouds somewhere, “it is not necessary 
for you to do that. We shall both work well 
where we are put, and we shall not make mar- 
riages of convenience, either, for the Master’s 
cause. You remember,” and here her voice tried 
to be light and playful, but there was a suspicious 
tremble in it, “you remember I ‘know you do 
not care anything for me except for your sister’s 
sake, and the promise,’ and this cannot possibly 
affect either of those.” 


IN THE WAY 


373 


Joseph looked at her a moment in amazement 
and alarm, and then it all eame over him what 
she meant, and he saw himself in just the light 
he was. 

“I am a fool and a blunderer,” he said, “and 
I must have been a boor. I ought to go down 
upon my knees and beg your pardon for that 
brutal speech I made in that long time ago. 
But yon see, Bllen, I love you, though I don’t 
seem to know how to tell you of it, and it will 
affect both my sister and my promise, for I 
couldn’t possibly live and work unless you will 
work with me. Ellen, I believe in my heart I 
loved you then. I remember thinking it was 
queer I cared to go out of my way for you when 
I had never done such things before. I believe 
I loved you then and didn’t know it. Can you 
forgive me? And will you love me just a 
little? Cannot we go out to some far land to- 
gether and work for Him? You know we 
started the promise together, and we can surely, 
work better if we help each other. Will you, 
Ellen?” 

And Ellen answered, “ Yes, I will.” 

And the next day was the marriage of David 
Benedict and Eouise Clifton. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


D avid and Eouise were married and gone 
on a year’s trip to the Holy Land. It had 
been David’s deep desire ever since he had been 
a Christian to wander over the places where the 
Master had trod, and Louise found that it was 
her desire as well. Indeed, she wanted nothing 
apart from what her husband wished. 

Ruth was glad and sad together to see them 
depart. She was very happy over David’s mar- 
riage, for she had come to love Louise dearly, and 
she saw they were well fitted for one another, but 
they were gone, and Joseph was still in college 
and was to go to the seminary, and she was 
alone in the great farmhouse. They had wanted 
her to go to Palestine with them, but she would 
not. She had a feeling that people who were 
just married needed to be by themselves for a 
while without any third person there to meddle, 
so that they might become adjusted to one 
another’s ways of living and thinking. More- 
over she loved her work in Summerton and 
could not be persuaded to leave it. Neverthe- 
less, when she saw them depart she shed a few 
tears and wondered what the Lord would have 
374 


IN THK WAY 375 

of her now that she was again bereft of family 
and alone in the world. 

What she did immediately was to ask a dear 
old lady who had been a mother in Israel to her 
ever since she came to Summerton, to come and 
live with her that winter, and so she made a 
pleasant home for one who was alone in the 
world and needed beauty and help and comfort, 
and who in turn was rich in Bible wisdom and 
good sound advice and a blessing to all who 
came near her. Her name was Mrs. Brown, 
just plain Mrs. Brown, but her face was a bene- 
diction in itself. 

The minister closed and locked the parsonage 
door on the day after the wedding and started 
out on a walk by himself toward the country. 
His mother had left earlier in the morning for a 
visit to her sister near New York, and a rest to 
her soul after the various labors of persuading 
to wear this, and have that, and not do this or 
that fanatical thing at the wedding. The one 
servant left to care for the minister was out, 
telling her most intimate friend about the wed- 
ding and all the extra work, and the house 
seemed unusually desolate to the minister. His 
heart ached. He wanted something and he 
knew what it was he wanted. Was it any use 
to try ? He had been reading the twenty-fourth 
chapter of Genesis, preparatory to his next 


IN THE WAY 


376 

Sunday’s sermon. It had seemed to affect him 
strangely. He had taken a sudden determination. 
“ I will ask the Lord to show me,” he said ; “I 
will ask a sign of the Lord as the men of old 
did,” and he had knelt beside his study table and 
prayed long and then had gone out. And ever 
there came to him as he walked these words : 
“ The Lord will send his angel with thee and 
will prosper thy way.” 

Out beside the little wood road not far away 
from the Benedict place he saw her. She was 
picking flowers or ferns or some sweet growing 
thing, and he went to meet her. She smiled 
and held out her hand to him, and he thought, 
he was sure, there had been tears in her eyes. 
He asked her to walk with him and they went 
on into the woods and there they sat down upon 
a mossy log. “ Is your name Rebecca ? ” he 
asked her, and then he told her all that was in 
his heart ; how she had blessed him ever since 
he had first met her and how he had loved and 
feared to tell it because he felt sure his love 
was not returned ; and now he had read the 
chapter and it had led him to seek a sign of the 
Lord, and he had come feeling that he would 
be led in some way and helped ; and how he 
would like to take her back home to the parson- 
age as his wife just as soon as she would let 
him. And then he waited for an answer. 


IN THE WAY 


377 


And Ruth looked up with glad tears shining 
in her sweet eyes and said, “ I will go.” 

As they rose to leave the woods that after- 
noon Robert Clifton quoted the text which had 
led him out to find her. “ I being in the way, 
the lyord led me.” “It is strange,” he said, 
“ how true that is. Every time when I have 
made up my mind to surrender my own way 
and follow what seemed to be pointed out as his 
way, I have been led to something great and 
sweet and beautiful, something that I wanted 
very much. And now at last it is you.” 

And Ruth, looking into the eyes of the man 
she loved said, “ That text is true of me also. 
I certainly have been led into brighter and 
better things than I ever dreamed. Let us take 
it for our life motto, ‘/ being in the way^ the 
Lord led me.’ ” 

As they came near to the house they heard 
through the open window the quavering voice 
of Mrs. Brown as she sang to herself a hymn 
that was dear to her and to them : 

“His wisdom ever waketh, 

His sight is never dim, 

He knows the way He taketh, 

And I will walk with him.” 


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